“Never mind him! Watch the holes!” Sergeant Hawley shouted. “There’s holes in the reef.”
As it turned out, there were a lot of holes. “This damn reef is swiss cheese!” someone hollered.
The reef sloped down, getting deeper rather than shallower toward the shore. The advancing soldiers had reached an impasse. They couldn’t wade the rest of the way, and they sure couldn’t swim. Machine-gun fire continued to pick them off.
Then came the screaming of incoming rounds, arcing over their heads.
“Those belong to us!” Ben shouted gleefully.
“I just hope they know we belong to them,” Deke replied.
For the first time, Deke looked behind them and saw a lone ship standing out to sea, its big guns belching smoke. Beyond the lone destroyer, his eagle eyes could barely make out the smoking hulk of a burning ship, a casualty of the naval battle that had taken place earlier. Whether the ship was Japanese or American, he couldn’t say.
Another volley of shells soared overhead. With telling accuracy, the shells exploded just beyond the beach, pulverizing entire trees, turning them into splinters. Even from a distance, Deke felt the oxygen being sucked from the air by the tremendous blasts. He had to admit that the power of the naval guns was awesome. He was glad not to be on the receiving end.
Sporadic fire continued from land — oddly muted rifle shots, almost like popguns — but the machine guns seemed to have been silenced by the naval bombardment.
In the temporary lull, Sergeant Hawley had found a way across. Deke didn’t like Hawley, but even he had to admit that the sergeant was a brave son of a bitch. A single, narrow ridge of coral ran straight to shore. They would be able to follow it to the beach. However, it wouldn’t be possible to stay spread out. They traversed the ridge in single file, leaving the men dangerously exposed to incoming fire.
Now and then a bullet came in, and a man fell headlong into the water. With the enemy unseen and behind cover, there wasn’t a thing that they could do about it.
“Move it! Move it!”
Hustling across the coral ridge, the troops finally made their way to the beach and flopped down on the sand, rifles pointed toward the dense wall of vegetation that started where the sand ended.
They were still out in the open, the Japs picking at them, pinning the men to the beach.
“Where are those bastards, anyhow?” a man near Deke asked. The soldier stuck his head up to get his bearings, and a bullet pierced his helmet. He flopped back down, lifeless as a rag doll.
Deke was certain that if they stayed put, they’d all end up the same way.
“Now what?” Ben asked, sounding near panic, the whites of his eyes showing.
“We get the hell off this beach, that’s what,” Deke said. He stood up and reached down to haul Ben to his feet. “Let’s go! It’s move or get shot!”
Without waiting for orders, Deke leaped to his feet and charged toward the dark slash of jungle.
Chapter Two
On the beach below, Deke heard the sergeant shout, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, you damn crazy peckerwood!”
Behind him, Lieutenant Thibault barked an order, and the rest of the squad surged after him.
But Deke was already entering the deep shade at the fringes of the jungle, rifle at the ready, Ben following.
“Deke, where are we going?” Ben stammered.
“Hush now. If we kept on that beach, we’d be as good as dead. Keep your eyes open.”
A clump of grass moved in the undergrowth. Deke stared, seeing that the grass was attached to a helmet on the head of a Japanese soldier. The man was artfully camouflaged to the point that Deke had almost walked right up on him.
Deke was so startled that he froze. He felt his insides turn to ice. His first Jap. Finally. This was the enemy they had been trained to both hate and fear. Well, I’ll be danged.
The enemy soldier saw him, but he was struggling to reload his rifle. He shouted something — possibly a curse or a warning to other Japs nearby.
Then something clicked into place for the Jap, and he swung the rifle in Deke’s direction.
Instinctively, Deke crouched and fired. At the same time, the Jap’s bullet snapped over Deke’s shoulder, causing Deke to flinch.
As a result, he managed to miss the Jap, who wasn’t more than twenty feet away. Deke realized it was one thing to shoot at a paper target, and altogether different to shoot at a man.
The enemy soldier had to work his bolt-action rifle before he could fire again, but Deke carried a semiautomatic M1. All he had to do was pull the trigger again.
This time, he was more deliberate about it. He lined up the sights on the Jap and squeezed the trigger. It wasn’t textbook in terms of marksmanship but it got the job done. He’d gotten his rifle into play before the Jap could.
A look of surprise came over the Jap’s face. He stared down at the hole in his chest, then looked back at Deke. Then his eyes glazed over, and he finally slumped down. The Jap had taken all of ten seconds to die, but it felt like an eternity to Deke.
He turned to Ben, who stood just behind him. “Why didn’t you shoot at that Jap? A lot of help you were—”
Ben didn’t answer. His mouth moved helplessly up and down, like a fish that couldn’t get air. He had a red badge on his chest, right where a general would have pinned it on. But it wasn’t a badge. It was a bullet wound. The Japanese bullet meant for Deke had struck him square in the chest.
“I’m hit, Deke,” he managed to stammer. He started to fall.
Deke reached to grab him. Ben collapsed into his arms, causing Deke to drop his rifle. Gently, he laid Ben down on the sandy jungle floor.
“You’ll be all right,” Deke said. He knew it wasn’t true. The hole in Ben’s front wasn’t so bad, but the bullet had gone clean through, making a much larger exit wound. Blood pooled around Ben, flowing over the rough ground.
Deke reached for his first aid kit. They’d learned basic first aid during training, but this was far beyond any help that Deke could give.
“I can’t believe I got killed right away.”
“Don’t say that, now. I’ll get you some help.” Deke looked around, but they were still alone. Where the hell was the rest of the company? Desperately, he shouted, “Medic!”
“Write to my parents, Deke,” Ben said. “Will you do that for me?”
“I’ll let them know you did good,” Deke said. He would have lied and told Ben that he would be all right, but there was so much blood.
“I’m cold,” Ben said. He was starting to shake. The hunter in Deke knew those were death throes. He had seen it often enough in the animals that he’d shot. “It doesn’t hurt any, but I’m cold. Who would think you could get cold on a tropical island?”
“You’ll be warm in a minute,” Deke said. “It’s all right now. You can go. Go on home now.”
But Ben didn’t answer. He was already gone.
Deke remained crouched over Ben, holding him. He gave him a shake, just to be sure. But Ben wasn’t coming back.
Ben had been like a kid brother to him, always tagging along. To be sure, he had sometimes been a pain in the neck. And yet Deke realized that Ben had been the closest thing that he’d had to a friend in the military.
He recalled how during training down on the Chesapeake Bay that Ben had had a tough time on the obstacle course. The weather there was always humid and steamy in the summer, which was good practice for what was to come in the Pacific islands, as it turned out. Splashing through the lukewarm waters of the Chesapeake during landing exercises had been a welcome relief. Even Deke, who had grown up in the mountains far from anything like salt water, didn’t mind splashing around on a hot day.