At that, a cheer finally rang out. The sound escaped the ship and carried across the water, security protocols be damned. In a short time, the ships were going to make a whole lot of noise anyhow.
America was going ashore.
The men finished up and filed out of the mess. Some made a final dash for the head. Others did yet another last-minute check of their gear, making sure rifle muzzles were plugged against the salt water and sand. A BAR gunner went by, his weapon completely wrapped in plastic.
Lieutenant Steele appeared and gathered the patrol, which was attached to a company for the landing this morning.
“Good morning, boys. Everybody get enough to eat?”
“Sure did, Honcho,” Philly replied. It was what they called the lieutenant instead of “sir,” which would have made him a target for Japanese snipers.
“Good. Now listen up. Stick together. We’re with C Company this morning. Our job is to take out any Japanese snipers in front of us or behind us. Leave the big stuff to them.”
Deke gave the lieutenant a single curt nod. He knew what to do. They all did.
“Here we go.”
They went down the cargo nets into the boats. Patrol Easy made it down just fine — or as well as could be expected when dangling from the side of a ship while laden with fifty pounds of gear. The ship swung gently back and forth in the ocean swell. The one who had the hardest time was Egan, and that was only because of the need to get his war dog into the boat. With the help of a sling and a couple of sturdy sailors above, Thor was lowered into the landing craft. Freed from the sling, the dog shook himself and barked a couple of times, as if to chase off the indignity of the process.
Despite the pep talk, despite all the training, some men had more trouble. They knew what was waiting for them on that beach. Once they were over the side, they couldn’t seem to let go of the top of the cargo net and climb down to the boats. Nobody would have called them cowards — they knew they had to climb down, but their muscles weren’t cooperating.
Sailors had been assigned to step on the soldiers’ hands to force them to let go. It wasn’t a job that any of them liked. More than once, they had to look down into the fearful, pleading face of a young soldier who was stuck fast to the top of the net. A soldier who might, or might not, live to see the sun come up. But they had their orders. The warrant officers were shouting at them to do their jobs.
The foot came down, making the young soldier let go.
Once full, the landing craft did not go racing toward the shore. Not yet. Instead, the landing craft drifted around the ship, like ducklings around a mother duck. Thankfully it was calm enough that only a few men managed to get seasick.
“What’s the holdup?” Philly demanded.
“You know how it goes,” Steele replied. “Hurry up and wait. Save your griping for the Japs.”
Although it was warm and humid, there was a slight salt breeze that cooled everyone in the boats. Later in the day, the rising sun would make the heat nearly unbearable, but for now it was quite pleasant. Boat motors muttered all around them in the darkness, mingling exhaust fumes with the salty air. Every now and then the breeze brought clean air filtered by a thousand miles of ocean, and Deke inhaled deeply, almost understanding how some men loved the sea in the way that he loved the mountains. Give me the land any day.
The surface of the sea was soon crisscrossed by the wakes of the landing craft as they circled the mother ships. This was no pleasure cruise for the thousands of troops in the smaller boats. The navy had simply been waiting for the landing craft to be loaded before clearing the decks for action.
On ships all across the invasion fleet, the big guns opened up. Long trails of flame cut across the predawn sky, the flashes reflected on the calm early-morning waters of the sea. They could see the shock waves roil the surface. Men on the boats shielded their ears from the deafening noise, but the sound carried deep into their bones.
From the boats, they could just see the dark, brooding lump of land, a darker smudge on the horizon. Soon they had no trouble seeing it because the incoming shells rained down and exploded. Glowing mushrooms of flame sprouted all along the shore.
The naval barrage was an awesome sight, and any man who witnessed it would never forget that morning until the end of his days. The display of firepower was intended to wipe out any Japanese shore defenses. All that destruction was reassuring, and the men in the boats suddenly felt better.
“Good morning, Hirohito!” Philly shouted. “Bow to that, you son of a bitch!”
The boats turned and slowly picked up speed as they nosed into the waves, heading for the fire-laced shoreline.
The invasion of Leyte had begun.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the boats, nobody had much to say, each man alone with his thoughts. The silence was broken only by the occasional shouts of the sergeants and officers. It was the way that men had been going into battle since the dawn of time. Although they were part of a massive army, they had to face their fears individually. Will I be brave or will I be a coward? Will I live to see tomorrow? If the Japs do get me, I just hope it’s quick.
Deke glanced over at Philly, whose broad face remained expressionless. He gave Deke a nod that seemed to say, Here we go again.
Deke nodded back, his face grim. Then again, it was usually grim. Deke never had been the happy-go-lucky sort.
He wriggled his toes inside his boots, eager for the feel of land under his feet. He was sick of boats.
The landing craft were beginning their sprint from the ships to the shoreline. There was a considerable stretch of open water to cross because the coral reefs reaching out from shore prevented the ships from entering the shallows near land.
In the invasion-planning stage, it had been determined that there would be water deep enough for most of the landing craft to get in close to the beach — emphasis on “most.” This was why the landing had been set for high tide, in hopes that the vessels could float right over the reefs. Nonetheless, it was a given that in some places the coral would be too close to the surface, and the troops would be forced to wade for shore. This was less than optimal, exposing them even longer to enemy fire while making their way through the surf.
On their run toward shore, the landing craft would be vulnerable while crossing that open water. The bombardment from the ships was intended to provide cover for the smaller vessels. For the most part, that tactic was more than effective.
Motors roaring, the flotilla of landing craft rushed toward shore. They were large, ungainly craft that wouldn’t be confused anytime soon with sleek speedboats, looking more like floating shoeboxes, yet they managed to kick up a wake.
In the twilight before dawn, the sea had begun smooth as glass, almost picture perfect as the light slowly softened in preparation for another Pacific sunrise. Now dozens of wakes churned the surface.
For many reasons, from the heat and humidity to the presence of the Japanese, this part of the world seemed inhospitable to men more used to the temperate climates of Ohio or Virginia or Massachusetts, but none of them could deny that the sunrises and sunsets were spectacular when the conditions were right.
Shells screamed overhead, sending shivers up the spines of the soldiers in the boats. Artillery was never a sound they were going to get used to, even when the guns were friendly. The truly big guns were farther out, where a handful of destroyers and even a cruiser had joined the symphony like a rhythm section of kettle drums.
Despite all the noise, Philly was an irrepressible conversationalist, as usual.