Battle Cry - Leon Uris [133]
“Give me a relief…Jap…jumped me.” He sagged to his knees.
“Your shoulder’s bleeding.”
“Nick…just a nick….”
“Lighttower, take him back to the aid tent on the double!”
Doc Kyser washed away the blood and offered Marion a shot of brandy. “You’re lucky, Mary. He just grazed you.” Marion managed a feeble grin. The doctor looked at his closed and bloody hand. “Let’s take a look at that hand, son.”
“What….”
“Open your fist.”
It took two corpsmen to pry Marion’s bloody hand open. He stared at it unbelievingly. There were shreds of flesh and muscle there. “Wash my hand,” Marion cried, “wash it quick.”
CHAPTER 9
January 25, 1943
SERGEANT BARRY was standing over me. I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet with a start. They were all gathered around the switchboard.
“I must have dozed,” I said. “Any word?”
“They haven’t answered the last four times.”
“Maybe they had to keep quiet on account of the Japs.”
“It will be light in a few more minutes,” I said, checking my watch. “The bombardment is due to start in five minutes.”
A Navy gunfire observer and the Tenth Marines’ observer went to the top of the ridge. Danny trudged over to me.
“See anything down there yet, Danny?”
“Nothing, at least no Japs in the stream.”
“Is the line still open to How Company?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe they’re just laying low. I wonder how Cassidy is?”
Huxley, followed by Ziltch, raced to us. “What’s the scoop?” he asked.
“The line is still open to How but we can’t get Seabags.”
“As soon as the bombardment opens, ring them again. Is the How observer at the observation post?”
“Yes, so are the other two.”
“Do you have a phone in up there?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going up there. About two minutes before we jump off I’ll phone you. Order the Tenth and the destroyer to hold fire. If you contact Seabags, have him shag-ass at zero five fifty-eight.” Huxley and Ziltch made their way to the rim of the ridge.
BLAM! BLAM! SWISH, WHOM! BLAM! BLAM! WHOM!
“This is the observation post. The Tenth Marines are on target. Have the destroyer lower her fire two hundred yards, they’re in the middle of the stream now.”
“Roger,” I said. “Crank up the generator, L.Q.”
BLAM! BLAM! Smoke began rising over the ridge. The generator whined. I put my fist to the key, then switched the dials. The clicks came through the earphones: TOW V DFS 1 0532 K.
BLAM! BLAM! SWHOOSH BLOM!
“Crank ’er up.” DFS V TOW 2 0533 LOWER 200 SALVO…. And the destroyer lowered and came in on the woods.
“Topeka White calling Brown. Are you there, Seabags?”
“Howdy, cousin,” a weak voice came through the phone.
“He’s there, he’s there!”
“Stop yelling and tell them bastards to stop firing at me, they’re two hundred yards out of the woods.”
“They’re lowering now. Are you all right?”
“Why, sure.”
“How’s Cassidy?”
“Not so hot…we got us four Japs and you should see the souvenirs.”
“Hang on a minute…hello observation post…this is Topeka White…tell Sam that Cassidy and Brown are still alive.”
“Hello Topeka White, this is Sam at the observation post. Call Henderson Field and tell them to call off the air cover. We can’t take a chance losing those boys now. All guns are on target. Contact How and tell them we want a machine gun spray before we jump…switch me to Seabags.”
“Hello…Seabags?”
“Howdy, Sam.”
“Good to hear your voice, son.”
“Good to be talking, Sam.”
“How’s it look down there?”
“Looks like they’re ripping the woods apart, noisy as hell.”
“Can you make it up the ridge?”
“Don’t think so. I’ll have to pack Cassidy…never do it in two minutes.”
“All right then, hit the stream and run for the beach