He nodded. “Porter told me to look for you, said you’d likely be waiting. What’s the situation?”
“Landing craft are within sight. We’ve asked for PT boats to provide cover, but they haven’t been sighted yet.” More gunfire sounded, followed by the boom of grenades. Close enough that I flinched. “Where’s Porter?”
“With the rear guard. I’ve got to get the rest of the men to the river. Porter and the squad he’s with are going to hold them up for ten more minutes, then hightail to that hill. Johnston’s platoon still there?”
“Yes sir. Sergeant Trent is going to send men down to the river by squads, as soon as you’re all clear.”
“It’s going to be close,” he said. “There’s beaucoup Japs on our tail.” With that he was off, shepherding his company through the grove, leaving Kaz and me alone, waiting for the last of our men, not to mention the enemy. The firing reached a crescendo a few minutes later amidst another round of grenade explosions. The first man to appear nearly fell out of the jungle path, clutching his leg, blood oozing from his thigh. Two more marines followed, scooping him up as they passed us.
“Porter?” I yelled.
“Back there,” was all one said, not wanting to hang around and chew the fat. The firing was close enough now to make out each weapon. Two M1s and a Thompson, against a whole lot of Arisakas.
Finally, two marines burst from the bush, a tommy gun firing away behind them.
“Is that Porter?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said a corporal. “He’s laying down covering fire. Get ready to run, mac.”
“I am quite ready,” Kaz said as they darted into the trees. “Do we really want to wait for this man?”
“Hell yeah,” I said, trying to sound like John Wayne in Flying Tigers.
Porter came into view, backing into the open field, firing his Thompson until it was empty and tossing it to the ground. He pulled a pin on a grenade and flung it into the bush, turning and pushing off into a sprint. He spotted us, barely hesitating.
“Run!” We didn’t need prompting. Hard on his heels, we were breaking speed records when the grenade went off. We had a few second’s grace but the Japs soon opened fire, bullets zinging overhead, slamming into tree trunks, and kicking up dust ahead of us.
Porter’s arms were pumping, Kaz close behind him. My M1 felt like it weighed a ton, my legs were weak and wobbly, but a whole lot of Japanese guys trying to kill me was a great motivator. I followed the two of them as they zigged and zagged between trees, once turning around and thinking of squeezing off a few rounds to slow our pursuers down.
I didn’t have enough bullets.
They were pouring out of the jungle, forty or fifty of them, I guessed. With the rear guard gone and an open field ahead of them, all the pent-up energy of the slow night’s fighting had been unleashed. They were screaming, a couple of samurai swords held high, Arisakas with fixed bayonets an undulating sea of steel in the morning light.
Good.
The hill came into view. I waved and signaled the Japs were behind us as we raced around it, but Trent and his men needed no prompting. They waited a few seconds for the full mass of men to come into view. The attacking Japs slowed, someone obviously on his toes, noticing the fortified position ahead.
The machine gun opened up. Lead ripped into the front line, dropping half a dozen of them. Then everyone else fired, M1 rounds dispatching even more. The machine gun chattered away as the Japs faltered and began to retreat, using the trees as cover, much as we had.
Trent signaled the machine gunner to cease fire.
“Think there’s more?” Trent asked Porter, who was lying on his back, gasping for air.
“Plenty more,” Porter said. “They tried to encircle us. There’s at least a company moving through the bush on each flank. And I’d bet some heavy weapons aren’t far behind on the trail. They hit us with mortars a few times.”
“LCs?” I asked Trent.
“Should be approaching the river now. But it’s going to take some time to get everyone on board, especially the wounded. We’ve got two PT boats on the way as well.”
“Listen,” Porter said, sitting up and accepting a canteen from Trent. “You should all head to the river. Leave me here with the machine gun.”
“No,” I said.
“What’s the matter with you, Boyle?” Porter said. “I’m sorry to cheat the hangman, but I’ll do more good dying here than in some bloody prison in a few months. Who will that help?”
“It’ll take more than one man to hold them off,” Trent said. I didn’t like that he hadn’t put the kibosh on Porter’s suggestion entirely.
“Position your men below, so they can hit the Japs as well. Then pull out fast after the next attack and get to the river. What have you got to lose?” Porter looked to each of us. I could see the idea had some appeal.
“Can we trust you?” I asked.
“Christ,” he said, “you must be crackers. I saved your life last night, giving you that whack on the head. You were making so much noise, a deaf Jap would have heard us in Tokyo. Sorry about that, but I didn’t think you’d agree with my suggestion. You must admit, it all worked out.”
“He’s got a point,” Kaz said.
“You too?” I knew when I was beat. “Okay. But I’m staying up here, until the last minute. Sarge, when you pull out, I’ll come down the rear slope and join you quick as I can.”
“As will I,” Kaz said.
No one had a chance to comment. Another wave of Japs had come out of the jungle, but this time they’d moved stealthily, and were well into the trees before we spotted them. We poured fire into them, but they returned it as well. We’d been lucky the first time, catching them unawares. That wasn’t going to happen twice. Bullets hit the coconut logs and split the air above us. Then a marine went down, hit by fire coming from our right flank.
“That’s the other company!” Porter yelled. They were working their way through the tiger grass, creating waves of movement targeting their position. The machine gunner swiveled and fired bursts into the grass, forcing the survivors back.
“There’s not much time,” Porter said, stating the obvious. “Once they get machine guns and mortars close enough, they’ll hit us from two sides and they won’t stop.”
“Okay,” Trent said, ordering his men to fall back and block the path to the river. “Porter, whatever it is you’ve done, I appreciate what you’re doing for us.” He stuck out his hand and they shook.
“You two,” Trent said, “watch our position. When we pull out you better be damn close behind us. You’ll need these.” He handed me the binoculars and followed his men down the back slope and into the grove, taking up positions behind the tall trees. I could see him sending a runner down to the river, probably to check on the landing craft.
“You know how to operate that thing?” I asked Porter, as he took over at the machine gun.
“Yes,” he said. “They trained us on Jap and Yank weapons. I guess I’ll be an expert in short order.” He pulled an ammo box closer, checking the belt, readying himself behind the gun, and settling in with a smile. He was a strange one, all right.
“You seem to be in a cheerful mood,” Kaz said.
“Why not? I’m outside, with the breeze on my face and the sea at my back, doing heroic things under an open sky. A lot better than being imprisoned in a dark hole for months before they hang me. You blokes are doing me a favor.”
“Delighted,” Kaz said. “Look there.” The Japs to our front were making another push, moving man by man, taking cover behind the trees, in the three rows to our left. Then I spotted movement in the tiger grass and fired my M1, getting rifle fire in return.
Porter squeezed off bursts at the figures behind the trees, but they had good cover. Trent and his men had a better angle and peppered them with shots, pushing them back. I fired another clip into the tiger grass, and heard a scream. It was the ones who didn’t scream that worried me.
Kaz crawled over to check on Trent. “They’re pulling out,” he said. “Time to go.”