The Long Patrol: World War II Novel (9 page)

“This is the first time we felt we could make it through the lines undetected. Besides, being behind the enemy gives us some advantages as far as watching the Japs.”

Blade nodded and looked at the ground trying to remember something, “What do they call you? Watchers?”

“Coast-Watchers, yes. We’re referred to as Coast-Watchers.” He smiled, “Seems a silly name, like we’re bird watching or something. Fact is, we’re in danger nearly every second of the day. We’re either dodging Japs or your incoming artillery and aircraft.”

Captain Blade nodded, “Well, yes, sorry ‘bout that, but there’s a war going on. The sergeant said you had some important information for us?”

“Yes, quite. Can we confer with your commanding generals so I don’t have to repeat myself?”

Blade smiled, “We’re kind of in the middle of a major move, not sure now’s a good time.”

Welch grit his teeth, “I can assure you your generals will want to hear what I have to say before you make your move. It can shorten the battle by months.”

Blade looked at Caprielli then back at the smiling Englishman. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do for you, but if you’re jerking me around there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I’m sure they’ll find it worth their time.”

***

An hour later Thomas Welch sat on a fallen palm log and faced General Thornton and Colonel Sinclair. Because of the urgency and the short notice, they too sat on fallen logs and stumps like a Boy Scout troop around a campfire. General Thornton spoke first, his rough, low voice the reason for his nickname, ‘Thorny.’ “We hear you have some vital information for us?”

Welch expected some polite chitchat, but these impetuous American’s liked to get straight to the point. “Yes, well as you know, I’m a part of the coast-watchers here on Guadalcanal. Until recently we’ve been feeding reports to Australia who I hope has been relaying them to you.” He paused hoping for some confirmation. When no one spoke he continued. “Our radios are old and the wet jungle climate wreaks havoc on them. My own stopped working two weeks ago, the last working unit stopped working only two days ago. As luck would have it, the timing couldn’t have been worse. My area of responsibility was the southern region of the island. I had to retreat far into the bush, as we all have, to avoid capture. We were effectively corralled to the center of the island. With you Americans here, they stopped actively looking for us and we ended up within a square mile area. Since we were so close we decided to team up. We’ve been essentially one unit since mid-September.”

Colonel Sinclair smiled and interrupted. “Get to the point, Son. We’ve got an attack to lead.”

Welch reddened, but continued, “Yes, quite. Well, we noticed something about the way the main Japanese force has set themselves up and we think they’ve put themselves in a pickle without knowing it.” He picked up a stick and started drawing in the sand.

Colonel Sinclair looked at the general who nodded. Welch continued,“We’re sitting here,” he poked the stick and made a hole in the sand, “my blokes are here,” another hole with a perimeter around it, “And your forces are here, generally.” He looked up to see if they were following. “The Japs used to be here to the west, but now they’ve shifted a large part of their force here. Basically they’ve leapfrogged their lines further southwest.” The American officers were looking with interest now. “So as you can see they’ve placed themselves right in front of our band of guerrillas.”

Thorny leaned in, “Are you suggesting you have a force that can attack them from the rear?”

He shook his head, “we’re not strong enough to cause them much damage, they’d sweep us aside in a jiffy. But right here,” he plunged his stick into the sand in front of the hole representing his men and drew a long line behind the Japanese force, “Is a peculiar land structure. It looks like normal jungle from the air and you wouldn’t know anything was peculiar about it until you tried to pass through. It looks a bit thicker than the jungle around it, but that’s because it’s hiding a deep canyon. The vines and grasses have grown together and connected the steep canyon walls. It looks like you’re walking on normal ground until you find yourself sinking through the vines. It’s impassable, the natives use ladders they’ve hacked from the jungle to cross it, but without them it’s impossible, particularly if being pursued by a strong enemy force.” He grinned, “We can sit on the other side and snipe them as they get stuck. They’ll be ducks on a pond.”

Colonel Sinclair looked up from the sand drawing, “What kind of weapons do your men have and how many are you?”

“We’ve got our rifles from before, Enfields, one Lewis machine gun left over from the first war and we’ve managed to sneak a few rifles and ammo from the Japs. Our boys love getting the best of the Japs. As far as numbers, we’re relatively small, one hundred fifty trained men.”

“Natives?”

He nodded, “Yes, but many were local police before the Japs arrived and have weapons training. The others are eager and quick to learn and are excellent in the jungle. Not up to your Marine standards, but stout fighters when the chips are down.”

Thorny looked at Sinclair then back to Welch, “We’re Army. The Marines are up that way a bit.”

“Ah, yes. Beg your pardon.” He spun his hat in his hands. “So what do you think? Will you consider my plan?”

Thorny cleared his throat, “Sounds interesting, but I can’t base an entire attack on some crazy land feature that may or may not be there.”

Welch spluttered, “I can assure you on my honor it is there. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, tried to walk across it even. Before the war. It’s a perfect trap and the best part is they don’t know it’s there.”

“Yeah, well neither do we. With all due respect, I don’t know you. I’ve got a call into my intelligence people and they’re checking on your story.” He held up his hands when Welch started to protest, “Now hold it, it’s standard procedure. It won’t take long, but until I get confirmation on you, I can’t let you wander around my lines.”

“You actually believe I’m working for the Japs? Have you lost your mind? I’m British, obviously. I’m an ally.”

“That’ll be all, Mr. Welch.” They stood up and Thorny gestured behind him to a waiting soldier. “Sergeant Frank will escort you to your temporary accommodations.”

Welch looked behind at the smiling soldier. He looked like he’d been cut from granite, “Right this way, Sir.”

Welch looked back to the officers, “This is daft. We’re wasting time. If you attacked you could cut the Jap force in half. You’d have them on the run.”

Thorny nodded, “Oh we’re attacking, but we’re attacking our way based on solid intelligence.”

Welch raised his voice, “Intelligence you got from your higher-ups who no doubt got it from our radio reports.” The General raised his eyes to Sergeant Frank, who nodded and put a large hand on Welch’s shoulder. He guided him from the area and directed him to a nearby tent. Sergeant Frank nudged him in and stood guard outside, his weapon slung over his shoulder.

Colonel Sinclair stood next to Thorny, only coming to his shoulder, “Interesting fellow. What do you think of his plan?”

“Probably has some merit, but it’s thin. Have some of our intelligence guys talk with him. I want to know more about his men. Might be nice to have some local talent guiding us through this god-awful place. Thinking it may be a good idea to send a small squad out to make contact. Organize them into a fighting force we could use.

Sinclair nodded, “I’ll get on it, take them some weapons and ammo. Keep the Japs on their toes.”

Thorny nodded, “Yes, having an active guerrilla squad behind them would definitely keep them on their toes. We’d need a unit that could be on their own for a while. They’d be on their own if they get into trouble. Any come to mind?”

He thought about it a moment then nodded, “Yes, Sir. A platoon in Baker Company, Captain Blade’s company. They were hit the hardest during the Henderson attack the other night, yet they had the fewest casualties. Real hard fighters I was told. They’d be up to the task.”

“Good, but you can’t send a whole platoon, needs to be smaller to slip through the Jap lines. Send a squad.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thomas Welch sat on the bunk and watched the sweat dripping from his nose pool onto the dirt floor. It was a balmy day and with the tent flaps closed there was no air-flow. Hours passed and he could hear the constant din of an army in motion. There were countless trucks hauling equipment and men. He even heard a few Stuart tanks clanking by. The officers weren’t pulling his leg, there was a big operation in process. He told himself that was why his plan had been snubbed. Once something’s set in motion it’s almost impossible to stop. He should have come a day or two earlier.

He heard talking from outside the flap and then it was flung aside allowing the bright afternoon sun to stream through. Two men came in and the second one rolled up the flap and tied it in the open position. “Hot as hell in here. Mind if I keep this open?”

Welch didn’t respond only stared, then said. “You here to interrogate me?”

The first man spoke, “I’m Lieutenant Smote and this is 1st Lieutenant Tormac. We’re with intelligence G2, but we’re not here to interrogate you. That sounds bad. We’re here to ask you questions about you and your men. That alright with you?”

Welch smiled not seeing the distinction, “Whatever you Yanks call it. Get on with it.”

Smote sat on the bunk across from him and looked at a clipboard he held on his lap. “We confirmed your identity. Thomas Welch III. Born in London on August 10th 1917 to Madelaine and Geoffery Welch. Joined the foreign service after attending college. You were originally sent to Tulagi, but just before the Japs started this, you were sent here to be an assistant to a Captain Morrisey. You were here two years before the Japs invaded. You report to Captain Morrisey.” He looked at Welch with stony blue eyes, “That sound right to you?” He nodded. Smote continued. “Now that we know who we’re dealing with…welcome to the 164th.”

Welch took a long pull from his canteen. He’d been conserving the luke warm water wondering if he was a prisoner or not. Now that he knew he wasn’t he quenched his thirst. “Can’t say I feel welcome, Lieutenant.”

Smote handed the clipboard to Tormac who held his pencil poised, ready to take notes. “Did Captain Morrisey send you to us? Was the attack plan his idea?”

Welch smiled, how to play this? “Morrisey knew I was coming here, but he didn’t think you Yanks would go for the plan…guess he was right.”

“Do you think Morrisey would welcome our help in the form of guns, ammunition and men?”

Welch flared, “I know we would. Look, I’m the man standing before you, I’m the man that risked his life coming through the Jap lines.”

“Okay,” Smote paced, “Would you be willing to risk your life again and take a squad of our men through to your camp?”

Welch brightened, “Yes, yes of course.” He looked Smote in the eye, “For what purpose?”

Tormac’s hand was writing in a blur, but stopped with the question. Smote answered, “To link our men to yours. To help you out, to re-supply and set you up to become an effective fighting force. We’d also want some of your natives to join our main lines, they’d be invaluable guides. Could save countless lives with their knowledge of the island.”

Welch smiled, “When do we leave?”

***

There was two hours of daylight left when Lieutenant Caprielli gave Sgt. Carver the news. Carver stared as he listened to the details. When he told him everything he knew, Carver nodded,
what kind of cluster-fuck is this?
“Okay. We better get our shit together if we’re leaving at dark. I’ll have Corporal Hooper get the men packed, they’ll bitch about the extra weight, but sounds like we’ll be gone for a while. You’ll be down a squad, they gonna reinforce you?”

“They’re rolling 1st squad and the rest of 2nd squad into 2nd platoon. I’ll be leading this expedition.” Sergeant Carver looked at the Lieutenant with a flash of anger before he gained control. “They’re taking your platoon?”

Caprielli shrugged, “I’ll get it back when we return.” Carver nodded, but in his head he groaned. Going into the jungle with only twelve men was bad enough, but being led by the Lieutenant made the situation ten times worse. How would he keep the men alive if he had to watch every move Caprielli made? He hid his feelings. “I’ll get started on the packing.”

The Lieutenant said, “Make sure the men have the carbines for this one. I don’t want anyone weighted down with a rifle.” Carver looked at his Thompson sub-machine gun. “I don’t care what you bring Sergant, but bring plenty of ammo. You’ll be the only one carrying the forty five caliber.”

Sergeant Carver nodded. At least that made sense, maybe he was coming around. “Yes, Sir.”

Two hours later they were watching the sun set. They sat beside their stuffed packs. O'Connor wondered how he’d be able to move through the jungle with such a heavy pack. It was going to be slow going and murder on his sore legs. He’d taken the bandages off. He wouldn’t be able to tend to them in the bush and besides, he was mostly healed.

The Lieutenant brought the Brit around to meet them. He seemed like an okay guy, if not a bit too chipper. He’d exchanged his tropical whites for olive drab army pants and top. He kept his floppy jungle hat, though. Instead of his captured Japanese Arisaka rifle he carried one of the new M1-Carbines. They packed a smaller punch, only thirty caliber, but they held more rounds in the magazine and were feather light compared with the 30.06 M1 Garand. He’d been given a crash course shooting at floating coconuts as they bobbed in the ocean waves. He thought the weapon a marvel of ingenuity and fell in love with it.