Paul nodded. "We'll take good care of you, Sergeant."
"Then let's go." Orlando closed the hatch. A moment later, the Sherman rumbled out of the ravine and moved toward the platoon's left flank. Paul, a half dozen riflemen, and one man with the flamethrower scrambled alongside and struggled to keep the tank between themselves and the Japanese on the hill.
Paul had ordered Collins and the rest of the platoon to move up around the right flank and keep the second machine gun occupied. He presumed the cannon in the bunker would concentrate its fire on Sergeant Orlando's hulking tank when it was visible.
They got to where the Jap tank couldn't see the infantry well and started up the hill. The wet ground made the climb difficult for the tank, and a couple of times Paul thought that Sergeant Orlando would say he couldn't make it. But Orlando was both skilled and persistent and they kept inching upward. The flanking Japanese machine gun opened up and bullets rattled harmlessly off the Sherman's turret, while the Jap tank's cannon fired sporadically to no effect. Sergeant Orlando's tank returned fire with the machine gun in her hull, hitting nothing but keeping the Jap gunners' heads down.
The infantrymen stayed in the shadow of the tank and kept an eye out for anything that looked like a camouflaged hole from where a Jap might emerge. Nothing stirred and the men gained confidence as they climbed farther up the hill.
The Americans drew closer until they could see the tip of the barrel of the machine gun as it spewed out its hate. Paul tried not to think of what might be going through the gunners' minds as they saw the American tank approaching. They had to know they were doomed. Why didn't they retreat? What the hell was wrong with these people?
Just as Paul was beginning to wonder when Orlando would use his main gun, he was rocked back by the sound and concussion of the Sherman's 76mm cannon firing. An instant later, the Japanese machine gun disappeared in a cloud of smoke and a shower of rocks.
Safer now, but still moving carefully, the men spread out and advanced on the smoking nest. When they looked in, they saw the shredded remains of what might have been four or five Japs. With all the pieces of smoking flesh lying about, it was hard to be exact.
The Sherman's hatch opened and Orlando looked down on his handiwork. "Not bad," he reasoned. "One shot is all it took."
"Yeah," said Paul. "Now all we got to do is get that buried tank."
Orlando closed the hatch and the Sherman started up again, this time veering for the higher ground above and behind the bunker. Paul understood immediately. Orlando was going to hit the Jap from behind. The way the bunker had been laid out, it probably lacked a firing port in the rear. This meant the Jap would be blind and helpless as they advanced down on it.
Orlando drove the Sherman up the hill to where he was above the bunker and within a hundred feet of it. Paul gripped his rifle tightly and found it hard to comprehend that live Japs were just a few feet from him.
"Get ready," Orlando yelled through the cracked hatch, "and get your men spread out, Lieutenant."
Seconds later, the Sherman's gun fired, then fired again shortly after. When the dust and smoke cleared, they could see the rear of the enemy tank where the shelling had blown away the back of the bunker. One more shot and the Jap tank shuddered and began to smoke. The soldier with the flamethrower ran to the hulk and fired a stream of liquid fire onto the Jap tank, where it stuck to the exposed metal and began to blaze with an insane fury.
"Migod," Paul said as he recoiled from the suddenness of the flamethrower and the heat it was generating. Within a few seconds the Jap tank began to rumble and then it exploded, filling the hill with a small fireworks display as ammunition and fuel blew up. Last, there was one big explosion and the turret of the Jap tank flew through the remaining earthen cover and several feet into the air before coming to a rest a little ways down the hill, where it lay like a child's broken toy.
Paul heard an animal howling and realized it was coming from his throat as he and the others cheered their little victory. The Sherman's hatch opened again and Sergeant Orlando climbed out and shook Paul's hand. "Hot damn," Orlando said, laughing. "My first time in combat and I got me a Jap tank."
"Excellent!" Paul exulted. "Now what about that other machine-gun nest?"
As he said that, Sergeant Collins ran up to them from the other side of the bunker. "Gone, sir. They saw what happened to their buddies and bailed out."
"Look out!" Paul exclaimed, wide-eyed, and fired in Orlando's direction.
A lone Japanese gunner clutched his heart and fell.
"Guess not all of them," Collins said. "We'll do a clean sweep."
Thanks to Orlando's tank, Paul's men had taken the hill, wiped out a bunker with a tank in it, destroyed a machine gun nest, and done it with no additional casualties. Better, they'd caused some Japs to break and run away, which they rarely did.
Now he could send his wounded back to the rear without fear of more casualties, and they could get medical care. "Staff Sergeant Orlando, you and yours got anyplace in particular to go right now?"
Orlando shrugged. "Home, but they won't let me. Why?"
"I think we work well together. You want to stick around?"
"And be your mascot, sir?" Orlando grinned infectiously. "Sounds good to me. Besides, I owe you."
Laughter rang out, a welcome and rare sound.
Chapter 39
OSS field operative Joe Nomura performed an awkward pirouette in front of the small fire, bowed, and laughed at the thought of a kempei officer behaving in such a manner. Dennis Chambers smiled and shook his head at the incongruous sight.
"Dammit, Joe, you look real enough to scare anyone when you just stand there in that toy-soldier outfit, but the shitty little dance you did kind of kills the effect."
Nomura laughed. "I never could dance, that's why. How does the uniform look without the arm?"
"Hell, it looks great, particularly without your arm. It makes you look sinister, like some old-time warrior who's survived a hundred battles and come back a war-wise hero. You'd make a tremendous samurai."
Joe took the compliment with a smile. After a number of false starts and experiments while the two men taught themselves the art of sewing, they'd successfully cut the dead kempei captain's uniform down to where it fit Joe fairly well. It wasn't perfect, but both men felt it would pass casual observation as most uniforms worn by the Japanese military were even more ragged and ill-fitting than they usually were.
Unlike Germany's Gestapo, who had their own distinctive uniforms, kempei officers wore the standard Japanese officer's uniform, but with a distinctive armband displaying the Japanese characters ken and hei, which translated as "law soldier." Usually, as in this case, the characters were black on white, and they made the wearer of them a minor god with enormous power over other people's lives and well-being.
According to his papers, the dead soldier, Capt. Shozo Onichi, had commanded a buntai, or section, in the area. Based on Onichi's rank, the two men guessed that a section would be about a hundred men. Logic also said these would be scattered about Onichi's area of control, which they presumed to be fairly large, but that the men would know who Onichi was and what he looked like. This meant that impersonating Onichi was out of the question. Joe would have to use another identity if he was to wander around in the uniform.