Chapter 67
Major Ruger and Paul Morrell stood to attention as Brigadier General Monck entered the battalion's command tent. "At ease, fellas, relax," Monck said. An easy grin split his face.
As a platoon leader, Paul had only met Monck on a couple of occasions and hadn't even talked to the man since becoming company commander.
He did know Monck's reputation as a firm but fair commander who didn't care much for the formalities of rank, particularly in these circumstances.
Major Ruger caught Paul's discomfort. "The lieutenant really doesn't think he did anything special. After all, he was primarily interested in saving his worthless ass and not winning a medal."
Monck laughed. "Well, his ass isn't all that worthless." The general reached into a fatigue-jacket pocket and pulled out a small package. "Here. The powers that be have determined that your coolheadedness under fire deserves a Bronze Star. Congratulations, Lieutenant."
"I really don't think I should have this, sir," Paul said as Monck placed the box in his hand.
Monck looked at him coolly, but with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I'm not surprised you said that. A lot of people do when they see a medal. But the truth is, you do deserve it, and certainly more so than some of the politicians who get honors for being on the same continent as a battle."
"But why, sir? I just did my job."
"That's right, son. All you did was your job. But you didn't have to do your job, did you? You could have laid on the ground until somebody else did his own job and killed the sniper. Or you could have hid until it got dark and then you could have skulked away and let somebody else figure out how to get rid of the bastard, if he hadn't already fled the coop so he could do it again. By that time who knows how much damage even a half-starved little kid could have done. No, you did exactly what you were supposed to do, which is solve the problem, and that, young Lieutenant Morrell, is precisely why you are getting this medal. You did your job and you did it well."
Paul nodded and took the box. He put it in his own pocket. It would be examined later. "Then thank you, sir."
Monck shook Paul's hand. Paul was astonished at the strength of the grip. "Lieutenant, this may not seem like much now, but it means a lot to your men to know that people like me have confidence in people like you. A few years from now, maybe a lot of years from now, you'll take it out and show it to your kids. You'll be proud of it and they'll be proud of you."
Paul finally grinned. "First I gotta get home before I can have any kids to show it to, General."
Monck laughed while, in the background, Ruger rolled his eyes in mock horror. Monck's expression changed as he unfolded a map and spread it on the table. He was no longer laughing.
"Gentlemen, along with giving Mr. Morrell his medal, I am visiting all my battalion commanders to make sure they understand precisely what is going on."
Paul asked if he should leave and Monck said no. "This'll save the major a trip if you hear it from me. What has been rumored is now going to occur. Effective immediately, the U.S. Army and Marines on Kyushu are to cease offensive operations and dig in. General Bradley and Admiral Nimitz feel that we have accomplished our purpose, and that we now own enough Jap real estate to use as a base for the next phase, the invasion of Honshu.
"As a result, you are to entrench and prepare to hold the ground we have. The only actions you will take will be patrols to make sure the Japs haven't organized an army just over the next ridge. What I think will happen is that the Japs, once they realize we've gone to ground, will attack the first time the weather gives them an opportunity. Bradley thinks that will be their last great attempt to drive us out of here."
Instinctively, all three men looked out through the tent's opening. It was cloudy and there was a light drizzle. It was not quite bad enough to ground air support or hamper artillery, but the January weather was far from ideal.
"Bradley feels that the Japs will attack just like the Germans did in the Bulge a year ago December," Monck added. "I agree. They will try to hug us real close so our planes and guns, even those that do get off, will be unable to bomb or fire because the Japs are too close to us."
The other men nodded silent agreement. What was referred to as hugging had been standard operating procedure for the Japs on the defensive ever since the Americans had landed. That they would try it while on the offensive was something new and unpleasant to ponder.
"Will they have enough to hit us with?" Ruger asked. "If that sniper's condition is any indication, the Japs are in pretty bad shape."
"Their army is in terrible shape," Monck admitted, "but the bastards are still fighting. They may be sick, cold, and starving, but there's still an awful lot of them left. This is their home and they're gonna make us pay for it until someone like Hirohito tells them to stop. And one other thing. I don't just want trenches, I want forts. If they break through, I don't want our rear areas vulnerable to being overrun. Everyone is going to have a circle to defend, and that includes the lard-ass rear-echelon troops you all love so much."
Ruger understood. "So we dig trenches and set up observation posts outside them. Good. The boys will be thrilled to not have any more hills to climb. What about things like barbed wire and mines? Will we get enough of that to keep them at bay?"
"Probably not," Monck said sadly. "It's one of the many things no one thought we'd need in the quantity we'd like to have. You'll get enough wire for a couple of strands, but nothing like the thickets of wire that were used in World War I. As to mines, I don't even know if we have any."
A couple of strands of wire would be nothing more than an annoyance. Without wire and mines, any successful defense would depend on having at least some warning, as well as being able to focus overwhelming firepower on an oncoming enemy that wasn't afraid to die.
"Anything else we should know?" Ruger asked.
"Just one more thing. How are your men set for gas masks?"
Chapter 68
Col. Tadashi Sakei whirled as Joe Nomura entered his office, causing papers to fly from his desk onto the floor. "Captain Nomura," he snapped angrily, "just where the hell have you been the last couple of days? You should be here with me and your emperor! Don't you know that? Where is your sense of duty?"
Despite the difference in ranks and the fact that Sakei was an Imperial Guards officer, Joe did not let the other man bully him. After all, he wore the uniform of a kempei officer and, in theory at least, was answerable to no one, not even a guards colonel.
"I had other duties to attend to," he answered stiffly.
If Sakei was upset by the borderline insolence, he didn't show it. Instead, Joe felt he probably expected it and had simply been letting off steam. Sakei shoved a batch of papers at Joe. "Here, what do you make of these?"
Joe glanced at them. They were copies of the most recent transmissions that had been sent from his station in the hills. This time, the radio was different as was the code. The transmissions, he saw with satisfaction, had not yet been decoded, and the sheets were nothing more than pages of gibberish. He pretended to study them and then handed them back.