Go for Broke

by Len Levinson

  They couldn’t miss. Each Japanese soldier was hit by bullets and fell to the ground.

  “Make sure they’re dead!” shouted Captain Stearns.

  The nurses aimed at the bodies, which were squirming and writhing on the ground, and continued to fire until the bodies stopped moving. The nurses lowered the barrels of their carbines and stared at the dead Japanese soldiers, aghast at what they’d done.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge was in the middle of the fight, holding his Ka-bar knife blade up in his hand; he punched it into the stomach of the Japanese soldier in front of him, then pulled the blade out and slashed to the side, severing the windpipe of the next Japanese soldier. The Japanese soldier collapsed onto his back, and Lieutenant Breckenridge spun around in time to see a Japanese rifle and bayonet zooming toward his stomach. Lieutenant Breckenridge darted to the side and jabbed the blade of the Ka-bar knife into the Japanese soldier’s arm. The Japanese soldier’s forward motion caused the blade to rip open his arm from his elbow to his shoulder.

  The Japanese soldier screamed horribly, but he didn’t drop his rifle. Lieutenant Breckenridge swung the Ka-bar knife at the Japanese soldier’s neck and cut open his jugular vein. Blood spurted out like a geyser into Lieutenant Breckenridge’s face. Lieutenant Breckenridge spat blood out of his mouth and wiped it away from his eyes as he rammed the knife between the ribs of a Japanese soldier who’d been trying to stick his bayonet into Private Yabalonka. Lieutenant Breckenridge pulled the knife out, and blood spurted after it.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge’s hand was covered with blood and gore. A Japanese soldier lunged at him with his rifle and bayonet, and Lieutenant Breckenridge batted the rifle stock out of the way with his left forearm, then thrust the blade of his knife into the Japanese soldier’s soft belly. The Japanese soldier shrieked as he fell backward. Lieutenant Breckenridge pulled the knife out, jumping to the side, drawing his arm back for another strike.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge stopped, because the throat in front of him belonged to Frankie La Barbara, who rushed past Lieutenant Breckenridge and thrust forward his rifle and bayonet, jamming the bayonet between the ribs of a Japanese soldier who’d been creeping up on Lieutenant Breckenridge. Frankie yanked down on his rifle and bayonet, but the bayonet wouldn’t come loose. Just then Frankie saw movement in the corner of his eye. He turned around and saw a Japanese soldier lunging toward him, thrusting his rifle and bayonet forward. Frankie timed him coming in, parried the rifle stock to the side with his left forearm, and kicked the Japanese soldier in the balls.

  The Japanese soldier screamed and dropped his rifle and bayonet. He clutched his shattered balls in his hands and jumped up and down. Frankie bent over to pick up the rifle and bayonet, and noticed sometning coming at the side of his head. He ducked backward, but received the smack of a Japanese rifle butt against his forehead. It was a grazing blow, but it dazed Frankie and he fell onto his ass.

  The Japanese soldier aimed his rifle and bayonet down and lunged toward Frankie La Barbara’s chest. Frankie rolled out of the way, and the Japanese soldier took aim again, but was jostled in the fighting taking place beside him, and that gave Frankie time to jump to his feet.

  Frankie kicked the Japanese soldier in the balls, but the Japanese soldier dodged to the side. The Japanese soldier leveled his rifle and bayonet at Frankie, when suddenly a samurai sword in the right hand of the Reverend Billie Jones swooped out of nowhere and cut off the Japanese soldier’s left arm.

  The Japanese soldier looked at his blood gushing out of the stump. Frankie snatched the rifle and bayonet out of the Japanese soldier’s hand, and the Japanese soldier went into shock, collapsing onto the other bodies lying on the floor. Frankie turned to his right, and wham, he collided with another Japanese soldier.

  Both men took a step backward and sized each other up for a moment, then charged each other at the same time. Wham—they collided again, and Frankie’s rifle stock mangled the Japanese soldier’s right hand. He dropped his rifle and Frankie whacked him in the mouth with his rifle butt. The Japanese soldier went down for the count.

  Frankie was near the back of the cave, and he heard one of the nurses scream. He turned to the right and saw a Japanese soldier charge the nurses. Frankie held his rifle and bayonet in his right hand and threw it like a harpoon at the Japanese soldier. The rifle and bayonet stuck into the Japanese soldier’s right kidney and hung there, the rifle butt bouncing up and down. The Japanese soldier shrieked horribly and fell backward. The butt of Frankie’s rifle hit the floor and caused the Japanese soldier to pole-vault onto his face.

  Another Japanese soldier ran toward the nurses, aiming his rifle and bayonet at them. Frankie ran two steps forward and dived onto the Japanese soldier, wrapping one hairy forearm around the Japanese soldier’s neck.

  The Japanese soldier crashed to the floor next to Lieutenant McCaffrey, and Frankie landed on top of him. The Japanese soldier’s head struck the floor and he saw stars for a moment, letting his rifle and bayonet go. Frankie pulled the Japanese soldier onto his back, scrambled around, and grabbed the Japanese soldier by the throat.

  Frankie placed his thumbs on the Japanese soldier’s throat and squeezed hard. The Japanese soldier’s eyes popped out and his tongue extended its full length into the air. He tried to claw Frankie La Barbara’s face with his fingernails, but Frankie leaned back and kept squeezing. The Japanese soldier grabbed Frankie’s wrists and stuck his fingernails into them, but Frankie wouldn’t let go. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the Japanese soldier’s throat, and the Japanese soldier coughed and gagged as his windpipe throttled. The Japanese soldier’s face became purple, and his grasp on Frankie’s wrists weakened. Frankie increased the pressure and felt something snap inside the Japanese soldier’s throat. The Japanese soldier went limp on the ground. He was dead.

  Frankie took a deep breath and removed his hands from the Japanese soldier’s throat. Lieutenant McCaffrey stared at the dead Japanese soldier, sick to her stomach. The fight had been so brutal, so elemental, so grim. She shook her head because she couldn’t believe her eyes. She didn’t want to believe them. Looking up toward the front of the cave, she saw soldiers grappling in the narrow, confined space. It was difficult to distinguish the GIs from the Japs. Frankie La Barbara rose wearily, picked up a Japanese rifle and bayonet, took a deep breath, and charged into the melee.

  Lieutenant McCaffrey saw him wind up and push the rifle and bayonet into the back of a Japanese soldier, then yank the rifle and bayonet loose, step to the side, bash a Japanese soldier in the face with his rifle butt, and advance into the center of the fight.

  Out of nowhere a Japanese soldier appeared behind Frankie and aimed his rifle and bayonet at Frankie’s back.

  “Watch out!” screamed Lieutenant McCaffrey.

  Frankie heard her but didn’t know she was speaking specifically to him. The Japanese soldier thrust his rifle and bayonet forward, when suddenly a shot rang out and the Japanese soldier’s head exploded from the impact of the bullet. The Japanese soldier collapsed onto the ground, his head a mass of twisted bone and gristle.

  The shot had been fired by Pfc. Jimmy O’Rourke, who carried a Nambu pistol in his right hand; he’d just taken it from the holster of a Japanese sergeant he’d killed with his rifle and bayonet. He swaggered into the thick of the fighting like John Wayne, held the pistol close to the back of a Japanese soldier, and pulled the trigger. The pistol fired, and a red splotch appeared on the back of the Japanese soldier, who pitched forward onto another Japanese soldier. That Japanese soldier turned around to see what was happening, and Jimmy O’Rourke advanced toward him, shooting him in the face.

  Jimmy squinted his eyes, because it was hard to see who was who in the cave. A Japanese soldier charged him, rifle and bayonet aimed toward Jimmy’s chest, and Jimmy took aim with the Nambu pistol, squeezing the trigger. The pistol fired and the Japanese soldier was knocked off his feet by the impact of the bullet. He landed on his back, and the shirt
of his uniform became soaked with blood.

  Jimmy heard footsteps from his right and turned in that direction. A Japanese soldier lunged toward him, his rifle and bayonet streaking toward Jimmy’s ribs. Jimmy raised the pistol and pulled the trigger. The pistol fired and kicked, and the bullet pierced the Japanese soldier’s neck. His lips burbled blood as he tripped over his feet and fell to the ground.

  Jimmy felt as though he were invincible with the pistol. It was as if he were the hero of a movie, destined to prevail and survive because the hero of a movie can’t be killed. He saw a Japanese soldier fighting with Lieutenant Breckenridge, and Jimmy fired the Nambu pistol at the Japanese soldier, hitting him on the arm. He fired again and shot a Japanese soldier in the head. He saw another Japanese soldier fighting with Victor Yabalonka, and Jimmy jumped toward the Japanese soldier, pushed the Nambu pistol toward the Japanese soldier’s ribs, and fired from a distance of one foot. The Japanese soldier was knocked to the side by the bullet and fell to the ground, and somebody stepped on his face as he died.

  Jimmy O’Rourke turned to his right and saw a Japanese soldier standing a few feet in front of him, shoving his rifle and bayonet at him. Jimmy whipped the Nambu around and pulled the trigger.

  Click!

  It was out of bullets. A cold wave of fear swept over Jimmy O’Rourke. He realized he wasn’t so invincible after all, and he wasn’t the hero of any movie. The Japanese bayonet plunged into his chest, and Jimmy O’Rourke was overwhelmed by a horrible tearing pain. He bellowed like a wounded bull and went into shock. The Japanese soldier tried to pull his rifle and bayonet loose, but it was stuck in Jimmy’s ribs. Dazed and numb but still conscious, Jimmy felt as though he were having the worst nightmare of his life as the tug of the Japanese soldier dragged him off his feet. He dropped to his knees, and the Japanese soldier pulled his rifle and bayonet again, but still it wouldn’t come loose, and he dragged Jimmy forward a few feet.

  Jimmy was as limp as a rag doll. The Japanese soldier pushed him onto his back, placed his foot on Jimmy’s chest, and drew back his rifle and bayonet. Jimmy was aware of everything happening to him as blood bubbled out of his mouth. He heard a cracking, crunching sound, and then the Japanese bayonet broke loose from his chest. A surge of blood followed it, and now at last the merciful black curtains fell over Jimmy O’Rourke.

  The Japanese soldier turned around and perceived figures kneeling on the floor at the back of the cave. He lowered his rifle and bayonet, the blade dripping with blood, and took a step toward the back of the cave, when wham! the samurai sword in the hands of the Reverend Billie Jones slammed him in the neck, chopping off his head.

  The head flew into the air and landed in front of Lieutenant Pagano, bouncing forward and rolling toward her, coming to a stop when it touched her foot. Lieutenant Pagano didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. She wanted to push the head away, but she also didn’t want to touch it. The eyes in the head stared at her accusingly. She mustered up all her courage and pushed it away with the butt of her M 1 carbine.

  Meanwhile, in the center of the cave, Lieutenant Breckenridge looked around and saw no more Japanese soldiers charging toward him. He narrowed his eyes and spotted Victor Yabalonka carrying a BAR soaked with blood. Then he saw the Reverend Billie Jones and his bloody, gory samurai sword. Frankie La Barbara lurched into his line of vision, looking for more Japanese soldiers. Morris Shilansky held a rock in his right hand, ready to throw it at the first Jap who moved toward him. The floor of the cave was covered with the bodies of dead Japanese soldiers.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge drank the last swallow of water in his canteen. He and the others had somehow stopped the Japs, but more of them would return soon. The Japanese soldiers couldn’t let the GIs remain at peace behind their lines.

  “Gather up all the ammunition you can find,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said wearily. “Take your positions in front of the cave.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge bent over and picked up a Japanese rifle and bayonet. He knelt beside a Japanese soldier and looked into his haversack for hand grenades. Three Japanese hand grenades were inside, and Lieutenant Breckenridge put them into his pocket. The Japanese soldier lay on top of another soldier, whom Lieutenant Breckenridge assumed to be Japanese, too, but when he looked closer he saw that it was Pfc. Jimmy O’Rourke, his point man.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge pulled the Japanese soldier off O’Rourke and felt for O’Rourke’s pulse, but couldn’t find it. “Are the nurses still here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” they replied more or less in unison.

  “One of my men is hurt, here. I think he might be dead.”

  Frankie La Barbara’s voice sounded on the other side of the cave. “Here’s another one over here. Jesus, it’s Froelich!”

  “I think this is Wilkie,” Shilansky said, kneeling beside a mangled, broken body.

  The nurses moved forward to examine the bodies while the other GIs grabbed armfuls of rifles and bandoliers full of ammunition. Lieutenant Breckenridge carried his stack of weapons and bullets to the front of the cave and dropped them in front of the barrier. He looked down on the dark jungle below and could perceive figures moving around. A Japanese voice barked an order, and a second later a machine gun opened fire. The bullets flew into the cave and ricocheted around.

  “Yeeoooowwww!” screamed Morris Shilansky, slapping his hand onto his leg, but he couldn’t stanch the blood.

  Lieutenant Jones crawled toward him, carrying a bag of medicine. Shilansky writhed and hollered as blood flowed in red ribbons around his fingers.

  “Stay still so I can look at it,” Lieutenant Jones said.

  “It hurts!” Shilansky said, gritting his teeth.

  “Let me see it!”

  Shilansky took his hand away. Lieutenant Jones inspected the wound as blood welled out and Japanese machine-gun bullets continued to ricochet around in the cave. She took a scissors from her bag of medicine and cut away Shilansky’s trousers.

  “Let’s get ready!” Lieutenant Breckenridge shouted. “They’ll come back anytime now!”

  THIRTEEN . . .

  “This is as far as I can go, sir,” said Pfc. Nick Bombasino from behind the wheel of the jeep.

  “Stop anywhere around here,” replied Colonel Hutchins.

  Pfc. Bombasino steered the jeep to the side of the narrow trail and hit the brake. Colonel Hutchins climbed out of the jeep, followed by Lieutenant Harper and Pfc. Levinson, who carried a backpack radio with the long aerial whipping back and forth in the air.

  All around them was thick jungle and foxholes. Colonel Hutchins wore his steel pot and carried a Thompson submachine gun in his right hand. He was full of codeine, alcohol, and caffeine, and his morale was high. His wounds hurt somewhat, but they only slowed him a little. His head was large and his steel pot rode high in the back and low over his eyes. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was full of stars, except for a few small patches of clouds. It would be a good day, and the Air Corps would fly missions.

  Colonel Hutchins pushed through leaves and elbowed branches out of the way. He came to a foxhole where three men sat around a 60mm mortar, eating C rations. The men glanced up as Colonel Hutchins approached, and when they recognized him they jumped to their feet.

  “As you were,” Colonel Hutchins said with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “How’s breakfast?”

  “Just fine, sir,” said one of the men, although the greasy cold sausage patties he was eating were dreadful.

  “Are we all set for the big attack here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Colonel Hutchins walked around the foxhole and moved forward, followed by Lieutenant Harper and Pfc. Levinson. Colonel Hutchins came to another foxhole, with two riflemen inside.

  “Good morning!” said Colonel Hutchins in his deep booming voice.

  The two GIs scrambled to attention; one was bare-headed.

  “You’d better put your helmet on, son!” Colonel
Hutchins said.

  The GI bent over, picked it up, and placed it over his head. “Yes, sir!”

  “How’re you feeling this morning?”

  “Fine, sir!”

  “Ready to kill Japs?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s the way to be.”

  Colonel Hutchins turned to the left and approached a machine-gun nest with three soldiers in it, and they all snapped to attention as he approached.

  “Is that gun ready to fire?” Colonel Hutchins asked.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Lemme see.”

  Colonel Hutchins jumped over the sandbag and sat behind the machine gun. He pulled the bolt back and a round flew out of the chamber. The safety was on and it was ready to fire. Boxes of ammunition were stacked beside the machine gun.

  “Who’s in charge here?” asked Colonel Hutchins.

  “I am, sir,” said a freckle-faced soldier about nineteen years old.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Private First Class John Ritter, sir.”

  “Where you from, Ritter?”

  “Nazarath, Texas, sir!”

  “Ranch country, ain’t it?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Colonel Hutchins slapped the soldier on his shoulder. “Keep up the good work!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Colonel Hutchins climbed out of the machine-gun nest and walked around a bush. He came to a one-man foxhole with a soldier fast asleep in the bottom.

  “Hey, what the hell you doing in there!” Colonel Hutchins shouted, standing at the edge of the foxhole, his hands on his hips.

  The soldier opened his eyes, focused, recognized his regimental commander, and jumped to his feet, his heart accelerating. “Pfc. Morton Schrank reporting, sir!”