A clap of thunder and a deluge of rain cascaded over the scene.
Burning fuel had doused the T-Rex’s hide and continued to waft flames into the air, despite the rain pouring over it. Saliva quenched the fire in its mouth, except for the burning head and feet protruding from its jaws.
Muffled roars followed this acquisition. Squawks of pain and aggravation.
And then, the Tyrannosaurus broke for the jungle, treading across the field with heavy footsteps that shook the ground. It headed directly towards Dawson.
The ground trembled beneath him.
Panic raced through his body, quickening his pulse.
Any contact from the massive feet would certainly crush him. Dawson considered springing upright and making a break for it. The way toward Bishop was clear. But he thought better of it. The dinosaur was coming at him like a locomotive.
Flipping onto his back, he glanced upward and waited to see if fate would ensnare him into a horrific death. Time seemed to freeze.
Dread consumed him.
A gigantic foot pounded into the earth, slightly in front of him and to the right. Massive claws crimped the ground. Staring upward, he glimpsed the other foot coming down. It was directly above him.
The creature would crush him for sure.
Dawson rolled to the left, tumbling over and over.
Spanning an immense distance, he hadn’t cleared its path; a talon meant to impale him.
Out of breath, he needed to make a last-ditch effort. He inhaled and wound his body around in another corkscrewing motion, seeking desperately to escape impending death. Dawson wasn’t quick enough.
The gargantuan foot compressed the ground beside him, rolling him back towards the creature. A talon pierced his thigh and squished him into the soggy earth.
He cried out in pain, but the bellowing was drowned out by the cacophony of explosions from the burning fuel tanks and raging battle from the garrison.
The T-Rex didn’t lose pace. It kept running.
Upward movement of the creature’s foot took Dawson along with it.
Skewered by the claw, he rose into the air, dangling from a talon. Dawson hung limp like a ragdoll. The creature’s swift movement caused him to spin under a toe. He’d be crushed on the next impact with the soil.
Dawson still clutched his rifle. He smacked the claw with the butt of his Garand; the jolt broke him loose from the impingement with the claw.
He fell and sailed through the air.
Landing with a heavy thud, he bounced up, then hit the saturated ground again.
He lay face down in the mire, numb from shock.
The predator kept tramping to the jungle, a blaze wafting from its backside.
Dawson breathed a sigh of relief.
And the T-Rex’s tail whipped around and knocked him across the plain. Everything became a mixture of black and orange, as the raging fire lit up the night sky directly above him. Flames shot from the burning storage tanks and landed all around him.
Any moment and he’d suffer the same fate as several Imperial soldiers. Burning alive was a grisly way to die.
Thirty-Five
The level of danger the Raiders would face during their operations became abundantly clear as training progressed. Dawson wrote to his fiancée about recent developments. His letter was postmarked from San Diego, California.
Mary,
I am sorry that I have not written you much since coming to the west coast. We train almost around the clock and liberty is an afterthought. Your letters are encouraging, and I read them when I am able to steal away some time late at night. That’s also when I try to get some words down on my stationery for letters to you and occasionally my mother. There simply isn’t time to communicate with anyone else. I hope my friends and family understand.
Never thought that active duty would be so demanding. Our training for the Raiders is even more time consuming than boot camp. The only difference is that boot camp builds a mental toughness that can’t be displaced.
We are sill doing tons of forced marches. But now Lt. Col. Carson has us mixing in double-time along with the marching. All the guys work up quite a sweat. We still work on hand-to-hand combat and get to the rifle range at Camp Pendleton occasionally. The latest development is that I’ve actually gotten aboard ship. We’ve boarded destroyers and headed up towards Los Angeles. Our unit has done a fair amount of rubber boat work, with practice landings on San Clemente Island. It is basically a Navy base with a fair amount of open space and beaches on all sides.
The rubber boat exercises have gone well, but they make me a little nervous. We will be using the boats in the Pacific theater and they are not as stable as I had thought. The boats work fine when the weather is right. But weather is unpredictable, and the flat-bottomed boats do not handle heavy surf well. We’ve capsized a number of times. Guys flounder in the water. Our gear gets soaked in salt and clogged with sand. And we’ve lost gear that we couldn’t recover. Ammunition cans have been lost. A few guys even let go of their weapons, only to have them swept away by the current.
The missions will be to land by stealth in the rubber boats and head inland to encounter the enemy. Many times, the Japanese will be dug into fortified positions. Other times we’ll be fighting our way through dense jungle. Without truck and tank support, we have to rely on the gear that we carry. So, we can’t afford to lose anything during a landing hazard.
Lt. Col. Carson says we’ll get better at it, but I just don’t know. I do not mean to worry you with this. I’m sure it won’t put me in more danger. Just will make the operations a pain to carry out at times. Anyway, I am holding up well and really hope that you are doing all right.
The response to this letter came fairly quick. Supportive as always, Mary expected him to rise to any challenge. Postmarked from Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
Randell,
I got your most recent letter. The new Raider units have been featured in the press, but they did not mention the use of rubber boats. Maybe our government doesn’t want that publicized. It came as a surprise to me, but I guess I hadn’t thought about how you would carry out your missions.
We all have a lot of faith in you, the government, and your leaders. If the Lt. Col. feels that you will get better at it, then I expect that you will. You’re a strong swimmer and are familiar with boats. This isn’t what you should be worried about. I hope that when you do see action, you’ll keep your eyes open and head down and not get shot.
Things are going well here, and I am done with school. I graduated with honors. My diploma reads that I focused on the classical curriculum. But I am glad that you told me to take the accounting class, because they hired me full-time at the bank! I’m so happy. I hope you’re proud of me. I am still working with war bonds. Part of my role at the bank is helping customers buy them. I also volunteer with the USO and help out on Saturdays.
I am keeping busy to help pass the time. We go to church on Sundays and the minister always has a kind word to say for our troops. He mentions the local men and women serving every week. I miss you a lot, even though I try to stay busy. You are always in my heart and I can’t wait to see you again.