Battle Cry - Leon Uris [197]
“Deploy the remaining alligators and stand by,” General Philips ordered calmly.
It was no Kiska! A strange silence fell after the roaring attack and we waited breathlessly as the Second Marines straightened their line of alligators to move in. Then the room shook! I was smashed into a bulkhead. Danny tumbled on top of me. We got to our feet, dazed. The sailors about us were pale and white lipped.
The Japs were firing back!
We looked into each other’s anxious eyes. We were shocked out of our complacency. The Division was in for a fight.
“I can’t understand it,” Admiral Parks complained aboard the Maryland at about the same time. “We hit them with everything in the book.”
“Goddammit to hell, Parks,” Philips roared, “those are eight-inch coastal guns they are shooting at us. Get them out of there before they hit a transport!”
“Move the Mobile and Birmingham in on target O-T, immediately.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“I don’t understand it,” Parks repeated.
General Bryant, the Division commander, leaned forward. I’ll explain it to you, Admiral. Naval guns shoot flat trajectories. They don’t shoot underground.”
Philips banged his fat fist on the table. “Good God, do you realize we may not have killed a single Jap bastard during the whole bombardment?”
“Any word from Roy’s Scouts and Snipers?”
“No, sir. They are still standing by.”
“We better not send them into that pier until we get those coastal guns out,” Bryant said. “British guns they took from Singapore. The British make good guns.”
A pale and trembling aide stepped up to the table. “Sir,” he sputtered, “we knocked out our own radios during the bombardment. We are out of communication.”
“Use flares, anything, man! Use walkie-talkies. But stay in with the control boat.”
“We are in for it, Tod,” Bryant whispered.
“Sir, the destroyer Ringgold has been hit in the lagoon.”
“How badly?”
“They said they’ll stay in till they run out of ammo or sink.”
“Good. Order them to keep firing.”
Philips turned to a sweating aide. “Send in Roy’s Scouts and Snipers. Have Wilson stand by.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We can’t hold off H-Hour forever. I hope to God our boys are right today, Don.”
The pent-up wrath of the Japanese burst on Lieutenant Roy’s platoon as it hit the end of the pier. They were caught in a murderous crossfire from the bunkers. The Scouts and Snipers dropped like flies as they edged up under the pilings toward Blue Beach. Roy worked like a madman to clear the enemy from their cover. He grenaded and bayoneted with his platoon through waist-deep water. He flushed the Japs from the pilings, put his foot on Blue Beach Two, and ducked behind the seawall. He turned to his radio operator.
“Tell them the pier is clear.”
“You’re hit,” the radioman said.
“Tell them that the pier is clear,” Roy repeated as he wrapped a bandage about his shattered arm and deployed the ten remaining men of the original fifty-five.
Finally the signal was given to proceed to the Blue Beaches.
As the alligators filled with Marines neared the edge of the barrier reef where the pier ended, they were greeted with an avalanche of gunfire. A load of men scrambled up on the pier. Inside of two minutes they all lay dead.
A correspondent touched the arm of a young boy and shouted into his ear as the slow, clumsy alligator bumbled its way through the bursting shrapnel. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Martini. Pfc Martini from San Francisco…I’m a machine gunner.”
“Are you scared, Martini?”
“Hell no. I’m a Marine!”
“How old are you, Martini?”
“Eighteen, sir….” The boy grabbed the newspaperman’s arm. “I’m scared sick, really, but I can’t let the other guys know….”
Those were his last words. The shell of a Jap dual purpose gun exploded inside the alligator.
Four alligators abreast moved in on Blue Beach One creeping up to the barrier reef. One rolled over under the impact of a direct hit, sending bodies and parts of bodies careening over the chalky waters. Another and another was hit and finally all four were gone.
“What’s going on in there?”