He watched the ships spread out and slowly form two lines facing the shore, coordinating to hit all points at once in two waves. "They seem pretty organized," he commented to his aide, who nodded in agreement.
Once they formed up they began heading toward the beaches at full throttle. That's when Eisenhower noticed the planes. Enemy fighters started strafing runs while two squadrons of bombers held back, waiting for the defenses to reveal themselves. He heard the sharp reports of the tanks opening up on the approaching vessels, saw the splash of the near misses and the bursts of the hits as they ripped through the hulls.
He watched the lead ships ground themselves and the troops pouring over the side. One ship must have hit a reef in deep water because the soldiers jumping in were over their heads. Some were swimming, many never came up. The defending machine guns were now in full swing, mowing down men as they approached the beach. My God, what a slaughter, he was about to exclaim when the world around him erupted.
The next thing he knew he was lying on his back trying to rub sand out of his eyes. He was aware of a heavy weight being lifted off his chest, then saw the bloody, lifeless face of his aide.
"General! Are you hurt?" cried a voice.
"I don't think so. Somebody get me a canteen so I can wash my eyes out. What the heck hit us?"
"Jap bombers. They're pounding the shit out of our defenses."
Eisenhower managed to clear his eyes enough to look around and assess the situation. Heavy attacks from the air had subdued the defenders enough for the enemy soldiers to establish multiple beachheads. While still taking heavy casualties, the enemy was slowly, successfully advancing and his own men were forced to pull back. He saw the smoking wreck of a tank a few hundred yards down the beach. "Get me Patton on the phone!" he screamed to no one in particular.
"George," he yelled into the field receiver. "They're breaking through. We need to counterattack!"
"Jesus Christ, Ike. I'm not just picking my ass. I know what's going on. I've already got the reserves on the move. You just watch the show and let me do the generaling. That's what you brought me here for, remember?" He abruptly hung up.
Sure enough, the jungle behind him came alive. A Stuart tank raced up, spraying the enemy with machine-gun fire to deadly effect. Dozens of Japanese fell less than a hundred yards in front of him. Behind the tank came American GIs; their youthful faces displaying grim determination. He saw a screaming group of Filipino soldiers charge right into the enemy line. The ferocity of the counterattack first staggered, then stopped the advancing line of the invaders. Eisenhower was beginning to cheer as the enemy broke and raced back toward the water, then noticed the other squadron of Japanese bombers closing in. At the same time, the second wave of infantry was massing on the beach, preparing to finish off whatever was left after the bombs hit.
Again he managed to get Patton on the line. "More bombers, George!"
"I see."
"What are our chances? Any more reserves?"
"I think we're screwed, Ike. Anything that can do more than spit is on our front line and the bombers are about to plaster us."
"Do we retreat?"
The roar of the first bombs exploding confirmed Patton's reply. "Too late, Ike."
General Eisenhower stood paralyzed as he watched the earth-shaking explosions getting closer. Then a blast of a different type of explosion drew him out of his trance and he glanced curiously upward in the direction of the new sound. There he saw a Jappanese bomber burning as it plummeted toward the sea, trailing great gouts of black smoke. Then he noticed two more enemy planes going down.
"Ike! You still there?"
Eisenhower had forgotten to hang up the field phone. "Yeah, George. What the heck…?"
"It's Doolittle! That crazy bastard and the rest of his squadron are taking on the whole Jap airforce. And you know what? They're winning!"
Ike could see the small P-38s buzzing around the enemy bombers with Zeros hot on their tails. There were still some bombs falling but most had been neutralized. Just as the last attacking bomber exploded in the jungle to his left, a single P-38, flying about thirty feet off the ground, strafed the invading infantry along the entire beachfront. It then disappeared over the jungle before the three pursuing Zeros could close.
The inspired allies responded as if it were a signal and advanced, pinning down the Japanese soldiers; turning attackers into defenders. From where he stood, Eisenhower watched pockets of desperate invaders try to charge up the beach but all were killed or driven back. At last the remaining attackers began to lay down their arms. First in small groups, then whole platoons. He heaved a great sigh as he realized that the invasion had been repulsed.
December 25, 1941
General Eisenhower glanced out the window of his personal car then gave a cynical smile to General Patton, who had just gotten in and sat down next to him. "Merry Christmas, George. Wouldn't you just know it: perfect weather! I think MacArthur must have a direct line to God."
"That's one school of thought, Ike," Patton replied. "Personally, I think his master comes from the other direction. Though, if you spend enough time around him you get the feeling God takes orders from him. Merry Christmas to you, too."
"Congratulations on your promotion. We're gonna miss you around here."
"Thanks. I'll miss you and the guys but not these jungles. No place for tanks."
"You did all right, George, jungle and all. It's not so bad here."
"No. I suppose you're right, Ike. Could be worse. At least it's not the Sahara Desert. 'Course, it doesn't really matter how I feel, I'm bound for Europe either way. Wish you were coming, too. Helluva thing. I'm not surprised about MacArthur taking and getting all the credit…"
Eisenhower laughed, "Not surprised? C'mon George. We'd have all been shocked if he didn't!"
"Sure would. But why in the hell is he playing me up so much? You and Jimmy did most of it."
"Don't kid yourself. You did plenty. The Old Soldier knows he'll need you right there with him when he goes up against the Germans in Europe. That's where the real war is going to be. That's where they're gonna need a tank commander." Eisenhower paused and sized up his friend. "You know, George, you're a hero now. Everything you do will make the news back home. Try not to slap any more soldiers."
Patton laughed defiantly. "I don't give a shit about any goddamn reporters. I'll train the men the way I want to." Then he met Eisenhower's gaze and gave him a comradely smile. "You know, Ike, you'd be going with me to fight the Germans instead of MacArthur if you hadn't left Washington to come back here."
Ike looked at the surrounding countryside that he had come to love so much and drew a deep breath. "Yeah, but then what would have happened here to these good people?"
"I don't even want to think about it," Patton answered, then sat straight up and looked out the front of the car. "Holy shit! Is the circus in town?"
Eisenhower again smiled and shook his head as he stared at the scene they were about to join. There were hundreds of soldiers, American and Filipino, wearing their dress uniforms and standing at attention. There had to be thousands of locals waving American flags and holding up MacArthur banners. Some were cheering and many, weeping. On a raised platform stood MacArthur himself, surrounded by reporters and cameras. There was a band playing but it was being drowned out by the crowd.
After the speech and ceremonial "passing of the reins" to Eisenhower, MacArthur waved to the screaming crowd, descended the steps, and climbed into a waiting car. Just before the door closed, Ike looked him in the eye and asked, "Think you'll be back, General?"