Battle Cry - Leon Uris [132]
“Sure, if they don’t slit our throats first, Sam.”
The decision made, Huxley quickly followed up. Watches were synchronized and he ordered a test call to be made every half hour. “You’ve got to stay till the last possible minute. Shove off at zero five five eight—that will give you two minutes,” he said.
“We’ll never be able to get up that slope, Sam. We’ll have to try to follow the stream to the beach.”
“Good luck.”
“Sam, tell Speedy not to worry about that fin he owes me.”
Huxley put the receiver back in its case and turned to the anxious faces about him. “They’re trapped,” he said, “but they can hold the line open to mortars…. Well, break it up, dammit. Don’t stare. There’s nothing we can do.”
“How’s the ankle?” Seabags whispered.
“I don’t even feel it any more,” Red Cassidy answered.
“Sure is still.”
“I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“Sure glad I chaw tobacco.” He spat. “Care for some?”
“Makes me puke.”
“Sure is quiet…where you from anyhow, Red?”
“Detroit.”
“Go on, get some sleep…I’m wide awake.”
“I can’t sleep. Suppose they’ll try to jump us?”
“Never can tell about them there things…. I’m from Iowa, myself. Black Hawk County, some of the best damned farm land in the world. My old man is retiring after the war…turning over a hundred and sixty acres to me…”
“Owwwwwww, God.”
“What’s it?”
“Nothing. I just tried to move my leg…it’s O.K. as long as I don’t touch it.”
They propped themselves up, back to back, and cradled their rifles in their laps.
“Yes sir, a hundred and sixty acres….”
“Sure is quiet….”
It was three hours later. “Better not check no more for a while, cousin, they’re rustling over the stream looking for us,” Seabags said and put the phone away. He helped Cassidy into a prone position. They looked into the black ahead of them. The brush over the stream was crackling with movement. “Don’t shoot, even if they hit the stream,” Seabags whispered. “I’ll try to jump them….”
A high-pitched voice cried out in the darkness, “Marine, you die!”
“Bastards.”
“Lay still, Red.”
“Marine…you die!”
“Yellow son of a—” Seabags clamped his hand over Cassidy’s mouth.
“They’re just trying to rattle you into shooting, now lay still.”
“Dirty Marine, you die, Marine, you die…fugg you, yellow Marine…fugg Babe Ruth…Marine, you die!”
“I’ll show those stinking…I’m going after them.”
Seabags gripped the pain-wracked boy and pinned him flat. “Dammit, lay still or I’ll have to lay you out.”
“Sorry…I’m O.K…. now.”
“MARINE…YOU DIE!”
Marion gripped his rifle tightly and gritted his teeth to fight back the tears. He could not hear the voices from the stream, but there were other voices calling up to the ridge, “Buddy…help me…I’m a Marine…I’m a Marine…help me…the Japs got me…Yow…Yowwwe.” Marion bit his lip and trembled.
“Halt, who goes there?”
“Marine.”
“Password?”
“Lonely,” Spanish Joe said as he slipped in next to Marion.
“What are you doing here, Joe?”
“Them Japs are getting my goat with that screaming.”
“How do you think I feel?”
“Do you think that is really Seabags and Cassidy yelling?”
“Get back to your post, Joe.”
“I’m going to plug the lousy bastards.”
“That’s just what they want you to try…”
“Buddy…help me…Sarge…help me….”
“Get back to your post, Joe.”
“I want…company.”
“Back to your post, dammit,” Marion snarled. Joe crept away. Marion edged through the grass. He made out a dim form lying along the ridge back of him and to the left and moved up to it. “Joe, I told you to get back to your…”
At this instant the Jap sprang. A knife blade flashed through the darkness. Marion went down, the Jap on top of him. Marion reached up desperately, blocked a thrust, and rolled away. The Jap was on him like a cat. Marion brought his knee up between the Jap’s legs. The man grunted and fell back for a split second. Marion tore forward, following up his advantage. They scuffed savagely on the rock. The Jap quivered, pressing his weight behind the knife. Slowly it edged towards Marion’s throat. Marion’s hand reached out into the enemy’s face, pushing his neck back. The Jap sunk his teeth into Marion’s