The next day broke with a sunny sky and relative quiet. You could hear Corporal “Swinging” Bill Arnold singing all the way back to the beach. That wasn’t a good sign as it probably meant he’d already been nipping. If a ruckus started, Arnold would be in real trouble at such an early hour. We hadn’t heard anything from Corporal Hans Goins, which was a good sign. A least he wasn’t out irritating people yet. Stay tuned.
A check on the data revealed Cactus Hill was farther off than I might have suspected. Once our battery started firing, we soon got word that the advance had slowed and weren’t near that target. I wasn’t sure what was going on. McQuiston was already on the phone.
“Sergeant McQuiston, any updates on where the front line is going?”
He pressed the phone against his head and listened more closely.
“McQuiston! You picking up anything? Any details?”
The sergeant put the phone down. “Looks like the motorized patrol of the Ninety-Sixth Reconnaissance got hit hard. They were on the move with vehicles sandbagged to protect against road mines. As they approached the village of Uchitomari, they came out on a stretch of open ground. The Japanese were waiting and hit them hard with antitank and sniper fire, even got in a machine-gun barrage. The Reconnaissance guys were up against a well-camouflaged installation. A forty-one-millimeter shell smacked the lead half-track. Captain Kyle Riley and their radio operator were knocked out. Turned out to be one damn big mess.”
“Sounds like they got hit from every possible angle,” I said.
“Yeah,” McQuiston said. “Sergeant John Cain ordered the men to abandon their positions while he covered them with a thirty-seven-millimeter gun. They contacted one of our other batteries to open up a barrage. The whole unit was cut off and pinned down. They were liberated only when some tanks and foot soldiers showed up from the rear.”
“How many did they lose?”
The sergeant rubbed his chin. “I believe six men were wounded and two killed. Five vehicles got blown away, but I’m sure they saved the infantry heavy losses.”
“I guess we softened up Cactus Hill for nothing.”
“No, Major. They are still after the same objective. Trouble is we got hit sooner than expected. We got some new sites to worry about. Hills like Clay, Coral, and Quarry. There’s even one in there named Mishabaru Hill.”
Sounded unexpected to me. I wasn’t sure where we should be aiming now. I remembered seeing those sites on some of the maps back at headquarters.
“I need more information,” I said. “I’m going to take a hike and see what turns up. You keep the unit running and stay in phone contact.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted.
* * *
I took a road that wound up to the front. Lieutenant Colonel Ed Stare’s Third Battalion had pressed forward behind the Recon boys even though they were under constant harassment. By the time I got to the front, I could see that K Company was taking heavy fire from Cactus Ridge, so we really weren’t out of the game we had been fighting. The enemy continued to hit hard.
“Get down,” a soldier yelled at me. “They ain’t gonna stop firing.”
A mortar blasted the area. For a few minutes, I lay there and waited for the next blast. It didn’t take long.
“How bad is it?” I asked one of the majors lying just ahead of me.
“They’ve really kicked up a storm,” he said. “Those sonofabitches are hitting us with everything they got. Problem is that the Cactus Ridge area is lined with caves and pillboxes. Hard for us to get at ’em.”
“Got ya,” I said.
“We’re getting it from the rear as well,” the major explained. “There’s a rock formation down there by the shore where they can hit us. Command dubbed it the Pirates’ Den. They’re using us for target practice.”
“I think I can get our artillery to fire their way. You got the coordinates?”
“You bet.” The major pulled out a map and made notations. “Will that work?”
“You got a radioman?”
“Over there.” He pointed to his left. “He’ll fix you up.”
I crawled part of the way and ran the rest. Sergeant McQuiston got my information and started making adjustments.
Meanwhile the C Company of the 763rd Battalion began taking heavy hits from 76mm shells. I worked my way down to where they’d stopped. As I watched, three tanks broke into flame. Suddenly, a soldier leaped into action and started pulling men out of the tanks and away from what would soon be an explosion.
The Japanese kept shooting at him with every sniper they had. At the risk of his own life, the soldier started saving men. One of the C Company men crawled up beside me.
“Who is that guy down there risking his life?” I asked.
The soldier blinked several times. “Looks like . . . like . . . a sergeant. I believe that’s Sergeant Orvil French.”
“That man should be awarded for his bravery,” I said. “He’s really risking his life.”
“You bet!” the soldier said, and hurried away.
Much later in the conflict, I learned that French did receive the Silver Star for his efforts.
I crawled down closer to the action to see if we could bring artillery fire to bear on their situation. Just as I reached the edge of their command post, a shell exploded, and men scattered everywhere. As the smoke cleared, we struggled to get up from the ground.
The regimental commander, Colonel May, staggered to his feet with blood running down the side of his face. I guessed a piece of shrapnel must have caught him.
“Damn it to hell,” the colonel moaned, and grabbed his head. “Don’t stop for me. Keep firing!”
A medic ran up with a large bandage. Colonel May paused long enough for the dressing to be tied to the back of his head and then charged ahead even though he walked with a limp and must have had a headache the size of Chicago.
“Keep firing!” May kept shouting. “Keep firing back!”
I realized that I had walked into a highly difficult position and wasn’t sure how to get out. Turned out that Colonel Stare had a similar problem. A firestorm had broken loose forty ways to Sunday and the Japanese weren’t letting up.
Colonel Stare called in that he was seriously worried that his battalion had become isolated and wasn’t sure how to proceed. They had him covered on all sides.
His voice roared out of the phone, “We are in danger of being wiped out if they counterattack.” The line went dead.
I looked around. Eleven men had been killed and fifty-four wounded. Stare was right.
We were in deep shit.