Chapter 21
So the attack from Beach Blue has been stopped cold!
The Japs allowed the boys to land — even offered them
every encouragement to do so — but once they tried to
penetrate inland they got just so far and no farther.
You wonder what the enemy's wily little game can be.
Anyhow, this much seems clear. It won't be a pushover.
It's going to be a real battle, long and tough.
What if your forces are hemmed in on these few
hundred yards of shoreline — "contained" as the
mmmmilitary phrasemakers say?
What then? The Japs are sure to infiltrate after dark.
It will be a long night of ceaseless small war
during which you'll discover new things about them —
mmmmostly unpleasant.
They will advance from tree to tree and make noise
and call familiar nicknames of men or yell for help.
They will crawl right up to your foxhole and drop
a hand grenade inside it and then dart quickly away. . .
Quit your bellyaching. Here comes a runner from the C.P.
He approaches Captain MacDonald and hands him a paper slip.
Maybe it's orders to move. Maybe the artillery's all set.
Maybe this deal can be put away in the cooler
before the enemy gets a chance to reorganize and counterattack.
The C.O. finishes reading the message and nears your platoon.
He announces, "I want your attention, men." They stop digging
and there is silence and everybody looks at him, trying
to extract meaning and comprehension from the set contour of
his mouth. His eyes travel along the line from face
to face and they stop at Sgt. Lindstrom and he
gestures with his head. Then he motions to Egan, and
then in the same way to Whitney. His gaze slides
into yours and it remains and it does not pass.
He pronounces your name. He said it. Your name. You.
You wipe your hands on the seat of your pants
and join the three others in front of the captain.
He crouches and signals for you to do the same
and his voice is like a thumbtack posting a bulletin.
"Listen, fellows. We're going to move up pretty damn soon.
We know that the Nips are planning a few surprises
and we've got to find out what the score is.
You men are a patrol. Sgt. Lindstrom is your leader.
Every company in the outfit is sending out similar units
so don't get trigger-happy or you might shoot your buddies.
"We need detailed preliminary reconnaissance of
mmmenemy positions and strong points.
We've got to determine his capabilities as well as intentions —
how he can attack, where, when and in what strength.
Your mission will be to follow a general direction forward,
penetrating the Jap lines as far as you possibly can.
Locate gun casements, ammunition dumps, supply centers,
mmmand command posts.
Check deviations on compass readings. Indicate suitable
mmmroutes of advance.
Get inside enemy areas. Find out his strength, his armament.
Ascertain his defiladed positions and the approximate
mmmdegree of defilade.
Are there protective detachments in front or in the rear?
How far are they from the main body of troops?
What sort of soldiers are they? Young, old, careless, alert?
Can officers and noncoms be readily identified for sniper action?
Remember, men — we want facts and facts alone — not opinions."
He pauses. "Any questions?" There are none. "All right, then,
Get ready to leave." He turns around and strides away.
Whitney is pleased. "I'm gonna get me a Jap!" He
Elbows Lindstrom playfully in the stomach. "How about that, Sarge?"
"Make your reservation early. There won't be enough for everyone."
