“Whatever the case, we need to move out now.” Staff Sergeant Wilson stood erect. He pointed to Bishop. “Take point.”
Bishop grinned. Then he took a long drag from his butt, inhaling deeply. He savored the smoke for a moment and then exhaled. “Yes, sir,” he said, moving to the front, as a column formed behind him.
Tossing the remainder of his cigarette onto the wet ground, it smoldered and went out. He assumed the point position.
Dawson fell in a few marines back from Bishop. Private First Class Miller’s team were in between him and the point man, with Jenkins toting a BAR and Knight carrying a Garand. Dawson was followed by Wilson, who clutched his Colt .45 semi-automatic pistol. Two fire teams from Staff Sergeant Kane’s rifle squad were added to the mix. Private First Class Simmons, a stout marine, hefted a Thompson, and led a fire team. The next team was led by Private First Class Alverez, who opted for an M1 Garand. Bringing up the rear was the fire team led by Private First Class Wells, who carried a Thompson submachine gun. Mudhole had the BAR, and Anderson held an M1 Garand.
A capable rifle squad, Dawson was surrounded by able marines. He felt reassured that the Raiders had ample firepower to take down whatever enemy they encountered, beast or foe. Yet, something kept nagging at him, and a chill ran up his spine despite the humidity. Something ambushed the enemy. We haven’t seen the worst of it yet, he thought. Not even close.
Twenty
Randall Dawson was excited to send Mary the news about developments at boot camp. He wrote to her with further updates in a letter postmarked from Savanah, Georgia.
Mary,
I was happy to get your recent letter and appreciate your support for my decision to change over to infantry. Things have gone quite well here. It started out so tough that I wondered if I had the mettle to get through it. Most of the guys were tough. Very tough. But the Marines aren’t just tough physically. There is a mental fortitude they possess. Perseverance is a key trait. You must have the ability to live in discomfort, to live with pain, and withstand strenuous and harsh physical conditions for a protracted period of time. Somehow, I adapted and rose to the challenge. I’ve excelled here and have been forged into a man.
My request for infantry was approved. But there’s more. The company commander called me into his office and told me that they were forming a new outfit. Commandos would be trained from the finest Marines in the fleet and the top recruits in boot camp to engage in special operations in the Pacific theater. One or two battalions will be formed and specially trained beyond the elite training Marines already receive. They will likely be the first to engage the Japanese. I’ve been asked to join.
They demanded immediate responses. An invitation to join is seen as the highest privilege. Anyone who doesn’t jump at the opportunity is not worthy of the position. One must be fully committed to become a commando. You are always in my heart and I wish that I could have run this by you first. But I already gave them my answer. I’m going to be a Marine Raider.
The response came right away. Merely a brief letter scrawled quickly to convey her thoughts about the development. Sent from Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
Randall,
I got your letter today and had to write back right away. The news came as a surprise. I’m both shocked (frightened) and proud. We all knew that you could make it through Marine Corps boot camp, even when you doubted yourself. Your progress and outstanding contributions were not unexpected. The drill instructor’s suggestion of your changing over to infantry was a surprise, but only because I did not know they made those sorts of changes.
This recent change is totally amazing. We have read about the new Raider units in the paper. I can’t believe that you were selected out of all the possible candidates! It is quite an accomplishment. My only concern is whether it is too dangerous. Raiders are expected to make advance landings. Won’t they be vulnerable if cut off from the allied forces?
You have all my love and support.
PS: I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Looking forward to coming down for your graduation. It is very nice of your parents to pay for the trip.
Twenty-One
Tanaka heard rifles blasting and the transport came to a halt. A soldier jumped from the running board. Tanaka opened the door and climbed down, stumbling to the ground. Mud broke his fall. He scrambled to his feet. Breaking around the hood of the truck towards the commotion, he looked up and a slaughter came into view.
A bicycle lay on the ground and the Carnotaurus had a soldier’s head in its mouth, with the man’s body hanging limp, like a rag doll. Another infantryman was splayed out on the lane, cleaved open at the waist. He wailed in pain.
The creature shook its prey, then a loud crack resonated across the roadway.
Snapping bone and gunshots resounded, almost in unison. Blood gushed from the open neck wound and spilled onto the ground before the creature’s immense feet. More rifles fired as Tanaka took up position alongside his comrades. But the Carnotaurus continued to shake the body, as though it sought to exsanguinate the corpse.
They needed to repel the beast. It had gotten a taste for human flesh and would menace them unless it suffered harm. Steadying his aim, Tanaka fired at an eye.
The bullet dug into thinner skin below the left socket. Dropping the solider, it shook its head and roared in agony. Soldiers piled out of the back of the truck and joined the fray. And then, the creature plodded towards the line of soldiers firing at it.
Lowering its head, the beast charged like a bull, whipping its head back and forth, as it hurled soldiers from side to side, piercing a few with its deadly horns.
It stampeded down the line and reached Tanaka in a moment. Eyes burning with rage, it stopped before him. The heat of its breath emanating from its muzzle, and the moisture of saliva dripping from enormous fangs, caused Tanaka to stand rooted in place. The dinosaur meant to slaughter him.
A blood smeared maw, it opened its mouth preparing for another kill.
Tanaka backpedaled as the beast treaded closer. It closed in on him. A gunshot disrupted the silence. The Carnotaurus glanced back at the assailant, Osamu, then it lowered its head and charged into Tanaka, simultaneously colliding into him while jerking its head to the side. It pitched Tanaka to the far edge of the road, then turned and trotted towards it spoils.
Grasping the torso of the severed infantryman and a leg of the corpse with the crushed skull, the creature broke into the underbrush and disappeared into the jungle.
Tanaka lay on the ground with pain flaring from his side. He’d recognized the shot as a Nambu pistol. A moment later, the Jun-i crouched by him looking concerned. “How are you?” he said, trying to assess the harm.
“Think it broke my ribs, but I’ll be okay.”
“Broken ribs can be serious. You could head back to the garrison and wait this one out.” The Jun-i paused. “No dishonor in it. We need you for the balance of the war. You are a prospect for Gocho one day.”
Tanaka rose up on his elbows. “I cannot leave my comrades.”
“You can guard the garrison. No dishonor.”
“I can fight, so I will.” Tanaka caught his breath and rose from the ground.