Battle Cry - Leon Uris [201]
“Bos’n’s Mate Herman Rommel, sir.”
“Not any relation to Rommel the German Field Marshal by any chance?” Philips asked, half amused.
“The sonofabitch is a cousin, sir.” The little sailor left.
For a moment everyone looked at the tired general. The butts of twenty cigars lay dispersed about the table and floor. Tod Philips sat there, slumped down in his chair. Each tick of the clock brought the red-rimmed eyes up for a look. They had been there for six hours.
“No counterattack yet. Carpe has the new radio,” Foul Ball spoke. His nervous hands reached for a cigarette.
“They’ve got something up their sleeve, Tod. Or they are rubbing it in and waiting for the Kill.”
“Any report on Jap mortar fire?”
“Sporadic.”
Some thought the General had lifted his head and said, “Thanks, God.” But it must have been a mistake, for this was Foul Ball Philips and he knew no God except the Marine Corps. He rose and gave an order.
“Contact the Eighth Marines. Have them move in at zero six hundred. Contact Carpe and tell him I want every man to go over the seawall when the Eighth hits the barrier reef. He’ll have to move or we’ll never make it. Snipes, you go in on the first wave and relieve Carpe. Tell him he’s due for a Congressional Medal—come on, you people! I need a cigar.”
On Blue Beach One the stench of death was everywhere. No wind, not the slightest zephyr to drive away the smell. The odor of rotted bodies, gangrened limbs and dried blood. Caked with layers of coral dust, cut, bleeding, thirsty, worn beyond endurance, the living clutched their rifles in disbelief as the first rays of a new dawn crept to the edge of the horizon.
The silent wounded lifted their gory heads to the lagoon.
The Eighth Marines were coming in!
Dawn brought new life to the Second Marines. They poised their battered bodies for a surge over the seawall. Colonel Carpe lifted himself, reeling to his feet. His aide phoned the order along Blue Beach: “Fix bayonets…prepare to advance.”
The Tenth Marines, who still had workable artillery, clattered and rumbled a weak and insufficient covering fire.
Carpe drew his pistol and shouted down the line of men crouched behind the seawall, “Let’s get the yellow sons of bitches!”
Like the dead arisen from the graves on Allhallow’s Eve, the remains of the Second Regiment burst over the wall to the attack. Admiral Shibu had been killed in the night, his plan of counterattack locked in his mind. After hours of futile argument, the Japanese had been caught off guard. Their fire was concentrated on the reinforcements coming through the lagoon. Before they could shift the hailstorm of lead, the Second had cut across the arced fantail of the island which was designated as Green Beach. With extraordinary energy the Marines slugged forward for a hundred yards and cut off the fortifications in that zone. Then the momentum of their surge petered out and they were unable to advance further. They dug in on the precious new ground and waited for the Eighth to fill the holes in their blasted lines.
A slug had ripped Colonel Carpe’s tough hide. This time he dropped, unable to rise. He was dragged back to the CP, protesting. At last he consented to accept aid if it could be given to him near the phone where he could maintain control of the battle. It was in this condition that General Snipes limped up to him.
“Hello, Carpe.”
“Get hit, Snipes?”
“Stepped into a pothole coming in, twisted my ankle. What’s the situation?”
“We made a few yards, got control of Green Beach. How are the reinforcements coming?”
“Lousy. They’re giving them hell again.”
By midday, what was left of the Eighth Marines was ashore and only fifty more blood-drenched yards had been gained against the paralyzing fire of the enemy. Reports of stiffer opposition came in to the command post with each grueling yard gained. Locked in close combat, the men of Japan and America fought and killed each other with the fury and hatred and passion of bereaved animals. At last Snipes radioed to the Maryland: VIOLET TO ROCKY: THE ISSUE IS IN DOUBT.
The drive had run out