A Quilt for Jenna (19 page)

“Sure, Bobby,” Mark said. “Let's go get 'er.”

They drove back to Betty's house and around back to the shed. Bobby turned the glow plugs on. The battery had a good charge, so they began to heat up right away. They went inside to tell Betty about Henry and to wait for the plugs to heat up.

“He's okay, Betty,” said Bobby. “The doctor says he just needs to rest. And he was able to give me a pretty good idea where the car is.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” whispered Betty.

They waited ten minutes, and then Bobby went out to the tractor, jumped in the cab, and cranked her over. After a momentary hesitation, the old diesel motor fired up and started running.

Bobby backed out of the shed and swung out onto the street. Mark followed in the Ford.

The wind had picked up to near gale force, and the light was failing as Bobby and Mark headed down the township highway toward Kidron Road.

The battering of the rough seas beneath the hull of the decrepit troop transport played havoc with Bobby Halverson's churning stomach. A true landlubber, Bobby had never seen the ocean before April of 1942. When he finally stood on the shore of the Pacific after the First Division landed in San Diego, he stared in awe at the vast blue expanse. The sound of the gulls wheeling in the air above his head was as plaintive and mournful as if they were lamenting the loss of something that was never to be found again, and the cries called to something deep in his spirit that was unnamable and sublime.

It's like my old life is gone and nothing will ever be the same again
, he thought.

Since Pearl Harbor, the Japanese army had battered Wake Island into submission, captured Bataan and Corregidor, set the British troops on the run in Burma and Singapore, and easily taken the Dutch East Indies. Their dominion stretched in a two-thousand-mile-long arc that was now dangerously close to Australia and New Zealand. It seemed that nothing could stop the swarming millions of battle-hardened Japanese soldiers. The US fighting forces received a momentary respite when the American Navy defeated the Japanese invasion fleet at Midway Island. Now the powers in Washington desperately needed to do something to stop the rising tide of Japanese Imperialism, and the Marines were ready to go.

Unfortunately, there was another front, and the consensus was that Europe was where the most crucial battles would be fought. Much of the supplies and manpower had therefore been allocated to the European theater, leaving only two divisions of Marines totaling 40,000 men for use in the Pacific. After much discussion it was decided that the attack would come somewhere in the southern part of the Japanese area of control.

The First Marine Division, which included the scout and sniper platoons, had been sent to San Diego, from there to Hawaii, and then on to a beautiful South Sea harbor called Nuku'alofa. There the Marines waited while the top brass made the final decision, which they did in July of 1942.

Thus it was that Bobby and Reuben found themselves on an ancient transport, tossing on rough seas beneath a concealing cover of clouds somewhere in the South Pacific, steaming toward their first engagement with the Japanese army.

Although it normally took more than a year to earn rapid promotion, Bobby had been promoted to lance corporal because of his outstanding leadership qualities and because of the shortage of ranking leaders. Reuben had been promoted to private first class. The two men were assigned to Gunnery Sergeant Thompkins' platoon of snipers, and after basic training, the three men had become close friends.

On Monday, July 27, Ed Thompkins came over to Bobby and Reuben and motioned them aside.

“I just sat in on a briefing session in Colonel Hunt's cabin,” he said quietly. “We're headed for the island of Guadalcanal. It's a strategic objective because the enemy has just finished building an airfield on the island, and they plan to use it to disrupt our supply lines to northern Australia. We have to take the island and hold it until we get reinforced.”

“How many Japanese are on the island?” asked Bobby.

“The word is that we have them outnumbered, but they can bring more men in from a dozen locations.”

“When are we going in?” Bobby asked.

“A week to ten days. It's a big island, so our platoon is going to see a lot of action.”

Reuben felt uncertainty begin to rise up in him. He had been so confident while he was being trained for the very purpose ahead of him—killing the enemy. Could he really do this? It's one thing to shoot at an outline of a man on a target range, but it's something entirely different to shoot another human being or thrust a bayonet through him. What would Jerusha say if she knew?

Bobby saw the troubled look on his face, and when Thompkins left he drew Reuben aside.

“Okay, what's going on in that complicated brain of yours?” Bobby asked.

Reuben hesitated but then said, “I don't know really how to describe this except to say that it's like I'm fighting a constant battle inside my head. I honestly don't know how I'm going to respond when the bullets are zipping around me or when I put a man in the sights of my rifle for the first time.” He looked down at the deck.

“If it's any consolation, you're not the only one who goes through these struggles,” Bobby said. “We all wonder how we'll respond when the moment finally comes. It seems to me that courage isn't something you carry around in your pocket like a silver dollar. My guess is that nobody finds out what he'll really do until the moment he has to do it.”

When Reuben didn't say anything, Bobby continued. “When I was a kid, I went hunting one time with my dad. I had shot plenty of deer in my life and didn't expect to have any problems that day. My dad and I spent three hours slow-crawling up on this big buck. He was in a stand of trees scratching the ground to attract some females, and he didn't see us. We got around on the downwind side of him so he couldn't get our scent. We would crawl a foot or two and then lie still. We worked our way through a thick stand of pine that had all kinds of elderberry and scrub brush, so we couldn't see him until we got right up on him. One minute he was completely hidden, and then I crawled forward one more time and there he was, not more than fifteen feet away. I had my gun cradled in my arms so it was easy to bring it up to firing position. Just as I was ready to shoot, he turned his head and looked straight into my eyes. I froze. My mouth went dry and my skin got cold. It was like someone turned the sun down about twenty degrees. There I was with my dad behind me giving me little nudges on the sole of my boot. I couldn't pull the trigger. It was as simple as that. I just couldn't do it.

“I think the deer didn't see me at first, or he didn't recognize me. It was probably only five or ten seconds, but it seemed like an hour. Then he saw me, and with a big bound he was gone, just vanished. And I'm lying there feeling like an idiot, and my dad stands up and says, ‘It's okay, son, just a little buck fever. It happens to all of us. Boy, we sure got close to that son of a gun before he saw us, didn't we? He was a beauty.'

“When we got home, my dad didn't say anything about it to my mom, and the next week we bagged two deer without any trouble. So I don't know, Reuben. It will all play itself out in the moment, so there's no sense in worrying or wondering. I'm betting you'll do the right thing.”

Reuben offered a smile, but a nagging doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

It's like a rat inside my head, gnawing away in the darkness. Lord, help me to be a good Marine.

The spontaneous prayer surprised Reuben. He hadn't thought about God in a long time.

On Monday, August 3, Colonel Hunt, the commanding officer, put out a notice to his troops. Bobby read it aloud to his platoon.

“The coming offensive in the Guadalcanal area marks the first offensive of the war against the enemy involving ground forces of the United States. The Marines have been selected to facilitate this action, which will prove to be the forerunner of successive offensive actions that will end in ultimate victory for our cause. Our country expects nothing but victory from us, and it shall have just that. The word ‘failure' is no longer in our vocabulary.

“We have worked hard and trained faithfully for this action, and I have every confidence in our ability and desire to force our will upon the enemy. We are meeting a tough and wily opponent, but he is not able to overcome us because we are United States Marines.

“Our commanding general and staff are counting on us and will give us wholehearted support and assistance. Our contemporaries of the other task organizations are red-blooded Marines like ourselves, and they are ably led. They, too, will be there at the final downfall of the enemy.

“Each of us has his assigned task. Let each vow to perform it to the utmost of his ability, with added effort for good measure.

“Good luck and God bless you.”

There You are again
, thought Reuben as Bobby folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
I haven't even thought about You in a long time, and now I'm praying for Your blessing. I hope You're real, I really do. And if You are, I want to ask You two things. Let me be a good Marine and do my duty, and let me get home to Jerusha in one piece. That's all. Oh, and please keep Bobby safe too. He's all I have out here.

On Friday, August 7, 1942, at 0400 hours, the Marines watched from the deck of their transport as the convoy of ships moved close in to the shore of Guadalcanal. The sky was still dark with no predawn glow, but ahead of them the even darker mass of the mountains of Guadalcanal stood in relief against the sky. The men were silent. Only the sweeping of the water past the bow of their ship could be heard. They couldn't see in the darkness, but they knew that all around them, other ships, battlewagons and cruisers, were creeping closer to the shore. No shots had been fired from the island, and one lieutenant was heard to mutter, “I can't believe it. Either the Japanese are very dumb or it's a trick.”