Even though Lieutenant Bill Mitchell and L Company had taken the hill, the Japanese suspected the unit was small in number and knew they significantly outnumbered the Americans. The stage stood ready for terror to unfold. Around noon, the enemy barreled into L Company with guns blazing.
Hoss Mitchell shouted to hang tight because they could beat the enemy at their own game.
Mortars blasted, and grenades exploded, but the soldiers didn’t retreat.
Mitchell encouraged the men to stay with it.
Japanese broke through the bushes only a few yards from the soldiers, but no one retreated. A few of the men rushed forward with bayonets, stabbing the enemy. Japanese were falling on every side.
Hoss kept swinging his rifle right and left, constantly firing. Once Japanese bodies had piled up on the ground, their unseen leaders apparently called off the attack and the survivors retreated.
Hoss knew they would be back and told the men to stay down. He figured they were not going to give up when they knew they outnumbered us.
Company L repositioned itself. Men dug makeshift foxholes. Others settled in behind boulders with their rifles carefully resting in cracks in the rock. In about thirty minutes the sound of rustling bushes and breaking branches signaled that the Japanese were coming again. Without making a sound, Hoss waved his hand in the air to call for readiness.
The Japanese screamed “Bonsai!” and roared out of the ground cover. Machine-gun fire exploded, but Hoss’s men stayed flat on the ground. When the artillery cover stopped, the Japanese came rushing in again. L Company didn’t flinch and kept firing. Once the Japanese broke through the thicket, they were virtually out in the open and made easy targets. The soldiers knocked them out as quickly as they appeared. In short order, the Japanese’s second attack failed.
Sergeant Blevins asked how long the enemy could endure, since the Yanks had already knocked out two of their counterattacks.
A guy named Annis answered that they’d fight as long as they had to.
Blevins shrugged and yelled that it felt like there was a million more enemy behind them.
Annis yelled back, “We’ll kill them as well.”
Hoss raised his hand and said they were coming again.
The screaming horde descended once more. They seemed to be getting closer.
Hoss ordered bayonets fixed.
A Japanese soldier came charging out of the bush with a grenade raised in his hand, but a rifle shot dropped him immediately. The grenade never exploded. Behind him another enemy squad came rushing in. Extremely accurate fire from the Deadeyes kept the Japanese from getting through the perimeter of the company.
* * *
Over on the other end of the hill, when the leader of the First Platoon got knocked out of action, Sergeant John Bradley stepped in to lead the squad forward. From out of nowhere, a slug caught him in the shoulder, sending him spinning backward.
Bradley hit the ground, rolled sideways, and grabbed his shoulder. He knew they had hit him.
A PFC yelled to the sergeant that they should retreat.
Bradley yelled that they had to stop the enemy even if they were all over them.
When the PFC argued that he had a bad wound, the sergeant told him to forget it and get busy rallying the men around him.
The soldier called the platoon together.
Bradley told them they had no choice but to fight their way out of there. It had become a real shoot-out.
One of the men noticed blood running down Bradley’s shirt. Bradley ignored him and insisted they had to stop the enemy before they kill them.
Within minutes, the Japanese came rolling in again. The exchange proved vicious. Not only for the enemy, but for the squad as well. Nevertheless, Sergeant Bradley led the charge, wounded shoulder and all.
A PFC shouted and fired his rifle several times. A Japanese fell only feet away from the sergeant’s back.
The battle continued through the afternoon, but eventually even Sergeant Bradley knew they had to withdraw.
Bradley commanded that they carry the wounded out first.
The medic told the sergeant to lie down: with one nasty hole in the shoulder, he was one of the wounded. His entire shirt was bloody.
Bradley growled hell no and insisted they get the more badly wounded men out on litters first.
The medic shrugged, and the wounded were evacuated. Even though he slumped, Bradley watched them leave.
The medic warned him that he had lost a lot of blood.
Bradley leaned on a tree branch and asked if they were all out. Once assured he suggested they back out gradually.
When a PFC asked how many he had killed, Bradley shrugged and guessed it must have been around twenty-six. He said he thought it was not a bad exchange for a little bullet hole, and laughed, then grimaced.
The men inched their way back down the hill. That night Sergeant John Bradley died.
* * *
In the area held by Company L, the sound of a scream echoed periodically from some man. Hoss knew his men were getting hit, but they had no choice but to keep firing. He had watched PFC Joseph Solch demonstrate extraordinary bravery. Solch had been one of the six men who volunteered to take out the spigot-mortar position hidden in a cave. When the other five men were wounded, the PFC stood over the fallen and began to protect them with his automatic rifle. Round after round had been fired into the attackers. While Solch fired, the wounded began crawling back to safety. Finally, only one man, helplessly wounded, remained. Picking him up on his back, Sloch crawled a hundred yards while machine-gun fire erupted around him. Struggling with his grueling burden, Solch made it back to camp and saved the soldier’s life.
Later when a surprise attack left the soldiers momentarily startled and staring, Solch leaped to his feet and emptied three BAR clips, killing fifteen of the attackers. Not one of the Japanese got through. Solch had stopped them all.
Hoss had seen demonstrations of bravery and courage everywhere he looked. The Japanese had to be astonished at the fortitude of the American troops. Eventually, the last Japanese fell to the ground and the enemy withdrew. The fourth counterattack ended in the same way. The soldiers had proven themselves to be mighty men of war indeed!
By four o’clock, the pause in the fighting silenced the company’s rifles. Hoss began to count heads. A majority of the men had been wounded with everything from minor cuts to serious holes in their legs or arms. Of the eighty-nine men, only three were untouched. Thirty-seven would not be able to walk. Seventeen were dead.
Hoss crept closer to the bodies of the Japanese. Staying under cover, he started counting the number that he could see. At least 165 Japanese had been killed. Kakazu had become a blood-soaked hill.