Chapter 8
The principal assault has already taken place on Beach Blue
to the west of the island, and it seems apparent
that the enemy has retreated to his previously prepared defenses.
Heavy guns blare out their syncopated jazz and abruptly stop
and there is a short pause while warring spirits
terminate their jitterbugging and stand around to applaud the number.
Then someone puts another nickel in the same old jukebox
and havoc selects a partner and the dance goes on.
Enfilading fire from the Jap positions on high terrain inland
whines over your head on its way to the beach,
trying to impede the bringing up of supplies and artillery
and knock out the tanks that LSTs are disgorging offshore.
Your skin is split with alertness and with every explosion
your spine runs up your back, cowering between your shoulders.
Your thoughts as you advance are absurdly out of character
and they form in single file in your mind and
they shove and they bump in an effort to get
away while escapes are still plainly marked, so they can
march across your body in wondering pity. Well, let them
out. Let everything that you have ever heard and everything
that you have ever been taught squeeze itself free so
that what you have left is what you really know.
Be careful. The danger of a counterattack is always present.
The Japanese system of defense is based largely on maneuver.
They do not resist energetically, but yield with the blow,
intending to hit back unexpectedly and decisively when the attacker
has been disorganized by the extent of his own penetration.
And they do not withdraw without leaving harassing elements behind
in the form of isolated strongpoints and special rearguard troops.
If front of you is a fringe of matted vegetation,
and the push slows down. There is no precision here,
no formation of steadily advancing men. Just an unhealthy mixture
of friend and foe stirred vigorously in a seething caldron.
Beyond is the jungle's steaming pie, fresh from the oven,
with a stinking coagulation of mud and water as filling
under a hard, unyielding crust of firmly tangled tropical foliage —
the whole gripped in the hand of some malicious comedian
ready to fling it in your face and exit laughing.
The leader of a forward patrol drops back to report
that an elaborately fortified center of resistance lies just ahead,
solidly emplaced, well sited, with lanes of fire skillfully cut
And ringed about by machinegun nests and individual ratholes.
The company is halted and Captain MacDonald
mmmregroups the platoons.
He appoints additional scouts to move ahead of the troops,
sending still others to each flank for security and control.
He tells the men to watch every step they take
and warns them to be sure to retain squad contact.
Then he turns back to talk earnestly over the radiophone,
and you hear the rumble of tanks on the beach.
You know that unsupported small arms cannot breach
mmmstrong positions,
and you wonder how the operation is going to develop.
You've heard of Jap bunkers covered with gasoline and burned
and sealed with dirt only to hold out for days.
Ordinary grenades and even mortars are useless against
mmmthese pillboxes
because the superstructures are reinforced with sturdy, sand-filled
mmmsteel drums
And the entrances are angled to trap a grenade's burst.
The roar of the tanks behind you is becoming louder,
and as your creep onward through the tall Kunai grass
you feel the ground beginning to tremble with approaching thunder.
Weather prediction: Light tanks followed by Infantry.
mmmProbably scattered Japs.
