Ruger winced at the comment. There just wasn't enough barbed wire to go around. Literally. The perimeter on Round Top was surrounded by a thin line of fencing that would have been more appropriate for preventing cattle from straying from a Montana ranch, instead of protecting a fortified hill. The little ring of wire would not be much of a deterrent.
"Want some artillery?" Ruger asked.
"Sure," Paul answered. "What's the catch?"
"Nothing, although maybe I feel guilty about the little bit of wire and the absolute lack of mines. General Monck gave me two 105-millimeter pack howitzers, and this looks like a real good spot for them. They can protect the flanks of the companies to your right and left, and they can hit the high ground in front of you."
"Mount Ugly?" Paul grinned.
Ruger looked at the scarred and denuded hill in front of them and decided that the name fit marvelously. Technically, it was in Japanese hands, but Paul's soldiers had scorched it and stripped it bare of vegetation so that the Japs could not use it for concealment and sneak up on Round Top.
Mt. Ugly was a little higher than Round Top, and that was a concern as the Japanese could hide behind it and be out of sight. However, if the Americans took Mt. Ugly, there would be another, higher hill behind it, and they would also be sticking out of the American lines and be even more vulnerable than before. There was no choice but to make the best of Round Top. The howitzers would help there as well. With their high trajectory, they would be able to lob shells just over the ridgeline of Mt. Ugly and maybe shake up anybody forming up for an attack.
Paul shivered as a blast of cold, wet air hit him in the face. One of the advantages of entrenching was that there were places on the hill that were actually dry and fairly warm. Of course the trenches themselves were dank and ankle-deep in water, which might lead to trench foot or frostbite, but the bunkers were fairly comfortable.
"Want to go inside?" Paul suggested. "We've got hot coffee and some doughnuts left over from breakfast."
Ruger readily agreed. The war was getting a lot more civilized. Why stay out in the rain if you don't have to? The weather, however, concerned him. It wasn't yet bad enough to put a halt to air support or artillery, but it was making things difficult. It wouldn't take all that much more to shift a lot of advantages to the Japanese, wherever they were hiding.
Again the wind swirled. It was raining harder now. Ruger touched Paul on the arm and pointed across the valley to the scarred bulk of Mt. Ugly. It was scarcely visible.
Chapter 70
The ringing phone jarred Barb Chambers from a deep sleep. After a moment's confusion, she turned on the light and looked at her watch. It was just after midnight. Who on earth could be calling her at this ungodly hour? She hoped it wasn't a drunk wanting a ride home. Her number was close to that of a local bar, and she often got calls from wives wondering just when the hell their no-good husbands were coming home. It would not be the first time her sleep had been interrupted by such a call.
She walked to the kitchen and turned on that light, somehow managing to pick up the phone on the fourth ring. "Hullo," she mumbled, her tongue still thick and uncooperative.
"Barb?"
She tensed. The voice was faint but chillingly familiar. Too familiar. "Yes," she said hesitantly. She had stopped breathing and her heart had begun racing. She dared not hope, would not hope.
"It's me, Barb."
"Dennis?" Her mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. This was a dream and she would soon awaken and find the happiness surging through her had been snatched away and replaced by cruel reality. Dennis was missing. The Japs said he was a prisoner, but Truman said the Japs lied. She hadn't heard from him in almost a year, and it was more likely he was dead than alive.
"It's me, honey. In the flesh."
Barb Chambers sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. The wood was cool to her buttocks through the thin cotton nightgown. She could feel things, sense things; therefore, she was not dreaming. This was truly happening.
"Where are you?" she said, half talking and half sobbing and all the while praying he wouldn't go away. This could not be an illusion, could it? Was she hallucinating?
There was a pause, and when Dennis responded, she could tell he was crying as well. "I can't say. Not just yet at least. But I'm safe, Barb, I'm safe. I'm on an American base and everything's gonna be okay." With that his voice broke down.
"When will you be home?" She tucked her knees under her chin, hugged them, and began to rock back and forth.
"Soon. Maybe a couple of weeks, but they're gonna get me out of here as fast as they can." He did not add that he wasn't going anyplace until the attempt to free Hirohito was completed, one way or another.
Dennis'd had his conferences first with Ridgway, and then with Bradley and Nimitz. They all said they understood fully. Hirohito would be treated with all the courtesy afforded a head of state and not treated as a prisoner. Now it was rumored that Truman was flying to Okinawa and that Dennis would meet with him as well. What a hell of a story he would have to tell Barb when he was allowed to tell it. If he was allowed to tell it, he corrected.
"Barb, I can't talk for very long 'cause this is costing the government a helluva lot of money and maybe someone else wants to use the phone. I just want you to know that I love you so very much and that I thought about you all the time I was, ah, in trouble. The thought of coming home to you was something that helped keep me alive when it got rough."
"I was so worried, so scared." She wanted to ask how rough it had been, but she was afraid of the answer. It could wait. He was alive and said he was well and that was all that counted.
"So was I, hon, but it's okay now. But, hey, how about you? How are you holding up?"
"Just fine, Dennis. My sister is here and she's helping out a lot."
"With what?" he asked, puzzled.
Barbara laughed at his confusion. "When was the last time we made love, dear Dennis?"
He thought quickly. He'd had a brief leave just before shipping out to Guam. That, he calculated, had been a little more than a year ago. They'd made love like bunnies for those few days as if there would be no tomorrow. There almost wasn't, he thought ruefully.
"I remember it well."
"Well, so do I and so will you. For the rest of our lives we're going to remember it. Dennis, you have a son. I didn't tell you because I didn't know at first, and then you went missing and I couldn't. I wanted so much to tell you, but there was no way," she sobbed.
"Jesus," Dennis gasped. "I'm a daddy."
"He's Dennis Jr. and he's got all the tools and digits he's supposed to." In the background, Dennis Jr. had awakened and was being soothed by Barb's sister, who was looking on incredulously. He would need changing and then he would want to nurse.
"Jesus," Dennis repeated.
"Dennis, have you suddenly gotten religion?" she teased.
"I'm overwhelmed."
"So am I," she whispered. "Now get home and let's get started on the next one."
Thousands of miles away, OSS agent Johnson watched as Chambers shakily hung up the phone. Despite trying to give the man some privacy, he had overheard much and understood more. The call had obviously gone well from the glazed and goofy look on Chambers's face.
"Congratulations, pop," Johnson said, extending his hand. "First cigar you get ahold of is mine."