The Long Patrol: World War II Novel (10 page)

O'Connor liked the carbine too, but he missed the power of his Garand. To compensate he’d brought along his sidearm .45. He’d won it in a poker game on the ship ride over from New Caledonia. The heavy caliber round would put an enemy down even if he hit him in the arm.

He looked the squad over. They’d only been on the island a little more than a week, but each man looked like a combat veteran of many years. They’d been bombed, strafed, shot at and they’d killed men with bayonets and knives. Despite this, O'Connor was worried, these men weren’t jungle fighters. His years of hunting had taught him to move like a ghost through the woods, but these men were mostly from the farms and cities of South Dakota. If the Japs heard them tonight they wouldn’t have enough firepower to fend them off.

O'Connor convinced Sgt. Carver to let him be point man. Carver had wanted Hooper, but he’d convinced him that his injury would make it hard for him. Carver agreed and gave the job to O'Connor. Now as he sat at the edge of the darkening jungle he wished he’d kept his big mouth shut.
I could get these guys killed.

Sergeant Carver put the men in the order he wanted for the patrol. He wanted them to stick close together. The dark jungle would be even darker at night and he didn’t want anyone getting lost. Welch had tried to get them to go during the daylight. He was convinced he could get them to the village without being spotted, but the higher-ups wanted them traveling at night so that’s what they’d do.

O'Connor hefted his pack and kneeled beneath its weight. He watched Sgt. Carver in the dying light. Carver nodded at him and he took his first step into the jungle. Dunphy followed staying close and so it went until the squad disappeared into the darkness.

O'Connor’s senses were on full alert. He concentrated on every step being as silent as he could. He’d schooled Dunphy on walking silently and he was happy to see that the lesson had some effect. He could hear him, but he didn’t sound like an elephant, more like a clumsy dog.

The first couple hundred yards were the toughest. The jungle was thick, but it soon opened up into more open palms. O'Connor thought it was probably part of a deserted plantation. Dunphy touched his arm and he crouched, waiting. He scanned his front. The palms swayed in a warm, light breeze. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so deadly. Soon he heard footsteps coming from behind. He kept scanning forward until someone came up beside him. It was the Brit and Sgt. Carver.

Welch whispered into his ear, “This is the Witherspoon place. Looted long before the Japs got here. There weren’t any Japs here when I passed through the other day.”

O'Connor nodded, thinking,
today ain’t yesterday, asshole
. Carver slapped his arm and motioned him forward. O'Connor nodded and moved like a cat on a prowl. The entire column was up and moving again. O'Connor could see a building looming out of the murky darkness. The Witherspoon place looked like it must have been quite the spread in its day. Now it looked dark and foreboding. He led the squad around the back. When he was beyond it, the wide open plantation terrain gave way to more jungle. It wasn’t thick, in fact it reminded him of what he’d see in Oregon; tall trees with thin underbrush. Perfect spot to find a deer. He hoped Japs didn’t think like deer.

To his front he heard something that didn’t sound right. He crouched and each man in line did the same. He pictured Dunphy crouching and trying to figure out why he stopped. O'Connor could hear the men as they bumped into each other, stopped and crouched, too loud. He strained his ears searching for what had spooked him. Had he imagined it? He’d heard something, but didn’t know what, something out of place. His hunting senses were buzzing, but there was nothing.

He was about to move when he heard it again, the low murmur of someone whispering. He couldn’t be sure how far away, but there was someone ahead and there were only Japs out there.

As he strained, Sgt. Carver appeared beside him. O'Connor was impressed he hadn’t heard him coming.
Is Sarge a hunter? A Jap hunter, no doubt
. Carver touched his shoulder and O'Connor pointed forward and signaled he’d heard talking. Carver was still beside him, straining to hear. There it was again. Carver squeezed his shoulder and signaled for him to fall back. O'Connor nodded and started backing up. He almost yelled when the world lit up with the light from a flare, but he bit his tongue and froze.
The Japs must’ve heard us; they’re searching for us
.
I knew these sons-of-bitches would get me killed
.

He moved his eyes and saw Carver lying on the ground motionless. Having the big man near him was calming, kind of like his father’s presence on a hunt.

The flare sputtered and sizzled as it descended, making the jungle dance with crazy shadows. When it extinguished and darkness and silence returned, Carver and O'Connor crept back down the line until they were gathered around the Lieutenant and Welch.

Carver whispered, “We found their line, not where they’re supposed to be.” You couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but everyone knew he was glaring at Welch.

Lt. Caprielli mulled things over, he needed to make a decision. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll head ninety degrees from our current direction and get around the edge of them.”

Carver shook his head, “Sir, it’s too risky. Why don’t we fade back to the plantation and see things in the light of day? We’re liable to run into them out here in the dark and we’ve got no support, totally on our own.”

Lt. Caprielli scooched closer and whispered in Carver’s ear, “I’m in charge, sergeant. Don’t question my orders, follow them.” It was whispered, but everyone caught the gist.

Sergeant Carver’s face turned red, but no one could see it in the darkness. Without responding he grabbed O'Connor’s shoulder and said, “Take us due east for a quarter mile. We’ll reassess our position.”

O'Connor nodded and was about to head out when he heard the Brit, “Going east isn’t a good idea. We’ll hit the river soon enough. With the recent rains it’s high and impassable.”

Carver leaned in, “Tell it the the LT. I’m only following orders.” He signaled for O'Connor to move out.

O'Connor moved to his left sensing Dunphy following him. So far no one had gotten themselves lost, a minor miracle. They stayed in the same single file formation as before, but now O'Connor could tell they were making more of an effort to be quiet. The Japs were close and everybody knew it. Their stealth gave O'Connor hope that they might live to see the dawn.

The going was easy. The jungle was spread out and easy to maneuver through. He took one careful step after another. After an hour he came to the bank of a meandering river and halted. Carver was beside him again without him hearing him. He’d have to compare notes, no way Carver learned to be so quiet in the big city.

As O'Connor searched for any unwanted guests, they were joined by Lieutenant Caprielli and Welch. The others faced away from each other and watched the dark jungle to either side. Caprielli pulled out his map and under a red light and poncho searched for their position. “This river shouldn’t be here,” he whispered to himself.

Carver couldn’t help himself, “Yet here it is.”

Caprielli brought the map to Welch and pulled his poncho over both their heads. He pointed to where he thought they were. Welch took a long look at the map and chuckled. “This map is wrong, they’ve put the river in the wrong place and misnamed it. This is Alligator Creek. Of course, there aren’t any alligators in the area, it was named by someone who didn’t know the difference between an alligator and a crocodile.” He slid his finger over, “The map says it’s the Tenaru, it should be here.” He put his finger where Caprielli thought they were. “Could be an old map and the river’s meandered, but more likely it’s just wrong. I’d put the map away. I know this island; I can get us there without all this nonsense.”

Caprielli folded it up and stuffed it in his front shirt pocket. “I’ll keep it. Can you get us there tonight?” Welch looked him in the eye, under the red glow they both looked like devils from a Halloween horror, he nodded.

When they came out from under the poncho Sgt. Carver stared at Caprielli. There was little doubt how he felt about him bypassing his opinion. He didn’t say a word, only stared. Caprielli tried to meet his gaze, but turned away. In the darkness he was able to keep his dignity. “Welch is going to lead us from here,” he whispered.

Sergeant Carver almost spoke, but decided to hold his tongue. Trusting this unknown Brit was folly as far as he was concerned. He didn’t think he would knowingly give them away, he’d be just as dead if he did, but he didn’t trust him to lead the patrol through the jungle without bumbling into Japs. He’d much prefer the stealth and obvious skill of his new point man, O'Connor. He moved close to O’Connor and spoke in his ear, “Stay right next to him. I don’t want him stumbling into the Japs.”

O'Connor nodded and waited for Welch to move out. When he did he was right beside him. Welch moved well, it was obvious he was comfortable in the jungle. O'Connor reminded himself that he’d been evading Jap patrols for months now.

They followed the river south, upstream. Where he was from in Oregon most rivers flowed west, but this one flowed due north, something he’d never seen. He shook his head.
I’m not in Oregon anymore.

They were moving along a well-worn path beside the slow river. He was by no means a veteran of these parts, but when he hunted these were the trails he’d set up on, well used game trails. He didn’t like the feeling. He tapped Welch who stopped and listened. “Think we should get off this trail.” It was a statement not a question.

Welch shook his head, “This is a native trail, Japs don’t use it.” He followed along, but his sixth sense was buzzing and he’d learned a long time ago to listen. He was about to stop Welch again when the world behind him erupted in gunfire and bright flashes.

He dropped to his belly, pulling Welch down with him. He spun to the flashes, only yards away put his carbine to his shoulder and fired in quick succession. The noise was deafening as more shots rang out deeper in the jungle. His squad was getting hit hard. He fired at the new muzzle flashes. The air above his head came alive with buzzing bullets. He rolled to his left back towards his squad. He pulled Welch along, but he was dead weight, he wondered if he’d been hit. As the fire continued he yelled, “Welch, you hit? You hit? Move your ass.” He got no response.

He pulled his gun up and fired at the flashes. On the third shot his carbines’ firing pin slammed onto an empty chamber. He cussed, shucked off his pack and dug into his belt for another magazine. He pulled out the old and slammed another in, priming the weapon. He aimed more carefully, trying to judge where the enemy’s body would be in relation to the flash. Answering fire from his squad petered out as they retreated. He realized he was cut off, alone with Japs all around him, his only ally a dead or wounded Brit. A feeling of panic started to rise in his gut, but he suppressed it and fired again.

He stopped firing; he had to get away from the area quick. No shooting had come from the river behind him. It was his only chance. The Japapanese continued firing. He wanted to kill them, pour fire into them, give his buddies a chance, but it would be the last thing he did. Instead he reached out and pulled his pack along the ground towards the river. He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore. Once the Japanese stopped firing he’d give his position away, but as long as they kept firing he could make all the noise he wanted.

He grunted and pulled the unwieldy pack along. With each step he got further away from the ambush. He wondered if any of his buddies had survived. He’d heard screaming, but not anymore. They’d been hit hard. It had been a perfectly orchestrated ambush. The thought made him feel uncomfortable,
were they waiting for us?

The firing was slowing down. There was no return fire. He hoped that meant the squad had successfully disengaged themselves from the fight. He imagined them running like hell back to the deserted plantation, the enemy hot on their heels. It wouldn’t be a bad place to make a last stand.

The quiet descended like a shroud over a death’s head. The firing had ceased, the jungle sounds ceased, so he stopped moving and strained to hear anything over the ringing in his ears. It was unnaturally quiet. Finally, like a far-away train approaching, the jungle started waking again. First the chirps and snaps of insects then the unknown night bird calls, he thought he even heard the call of a monkey.
Does this place have monkeys
? Soon it was as if the firefight hadn’t happened, the jungle returned to normal.

O'Connor didn’t move. His pack was in front of him. He could sense he was close to the river, but he couldn’t be sure how close. It may as well be a mile since the noise of dragging the pack even a foot would bring the Japs onto his position.

He rested his carbine on the pack and waited for a target. He had no doubt they’d pursue him. He’d walked right past the ambush without ever seeing them. They’d let he and Welch pass first to let the main force walk into the kill zone. How had he been so clueless? Why hadn’t he sensed the Jap ambush? Then he remembered he had, but Welch wouldn’t get off the trail. O'Connor gritted his teeth. The poor son-of-a-bitch was laying out there dead or dying; he’d paid the price for his mistake.

It wouldn’t take long for the Japs to come for him. They’d probably already found Welch and were searching for him. He wondered how many were searching. The main force must have pursued what was left of the squad, but how many stayed back to finish off the point man? He felt his bowels loosen as he remembered the stories he’d heard of how Japs treated prisoners. Long torture and slow agony as you prayed for death. He decided they wouldn’t take him alive. He felt along his belt until he found a grenade. He pulled it and laid it next to the pack. If he was wounded in the next couple minutes, he’d end it with the grenade. Use the Jap playbook against them and take a few with him. He felt better with the grenade; it eased his mind to know he wouldn’t suffer at the hands of these savages.