Battle Cry - Leon Uris [248]
“All right, Speedy…the walkie-talkie network is busted up. I want you to make a round of the rifle companies and get all the squad back into the CP.”
“Roger…see you,” Speedy said, grabbing his carbine and dashing toward the front.
“Danny!”
“Yes, Mac.”
“Get in the jeep and stand watch to Kingpin.”
“What about this busted radio to regiment?”
“We’ll have to look at it later. I’m going to find Huxley. Barry, as soon as any of your men return shoot them down that beach to regiment. Tell them there’s a Silver Star in it if they get that line in.”
Barry laughed and slapped me on the back as I ran to the water’s edge to try to find the skipper. The deck was still rocked from the steady stream of shells being poured from Mount Topotchau.
I couldn’t spot Huxley at first. Then I saw the skipper sitting holding something in his arms. He was crying like a baby. It was his little orderly, Ziltch. He was dead, covered with blood and horribly mangled. Huxley was rocking the body back and forth. He had put over the dead boy’s face the faded red handkerchief with the embroidered Sam Huxley, Ohio State.
“Skipper, get for cover!” I yelled. He was mute. I dragged him to shelter.
Huxley began screaming. “He threw himself on a grenade! Mac, they’re killing my boys! They’re killing my boys!”
He was berserk. I straightened him up and belted him in the mouth. The punch knocked him down. He struggled up to a sitting position and sat there shaking his head and blinking. A Jap screaming-meemie whistled down. I threw myself over him and pinned him flat till it passed over.
“Thanks, Mac.”
“I didn’t want to slug you, skipper.”
“I guess…I lost my—what’s the picture?” he snapped quickly.
“Bad. The rest of the combat team is a mile down the beach and we’re out of contact. The network to the rifle companies is busted. All we are in contact with is the flagship.”
“Where is Gunner Keats? Have him report here immediately.”
“I’m in charge now,” I said. “He didn’t even get out of the buffalo.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Telephones to the riflemen should be in soon. I’ve called all radiomen back to the CP. We’ll try to run a wire down the beach to regiment. But they’re really pouring it in on the gap between us.”
“You’re moving right, Mac. You’re a lieutenant now.”
“We’ll argue about that later.”
“Whatever you do, keep the radio in to Kingpin. If we lose them, we’re in for it. We’ll need naval support when the Japs counterattack from Garapan. Get back to the command post. I’m going to the aid tent to check casualties. I’ll be right in.”
“Roger.” I sprang from cover and sprinted over the sand. Something hissed and arched above and sent me flat. The earth rumbled and then I felt numb as something struck me in the small of my back. I rolled over. It was a man’s leg!
“Skipper!”
Huxley was already tying a tourniquet about the stump when I got back to him. “Get back to the CP, Mac. You know your assignment! If I’m not there in ten minutes tell Wellman he’s got himself a battalion.”
“Skipper, I can’t leave you!” I bent over him. The sand was slippery with his blood. Next thing I knew I was looking down the barrel of a .45 automatic.
“Get back to your post, Marine,” Huxley snarled as he pulled back the cocking pin.
Up front with Fox Company, L.Q. slammed his earphones to the deck and cursed.
“Hey, L.Q. Max wants to know if you are in with the command post?”
“Tell Shapiro that all I can get is How Company and I can’t even get them now.”
“Never mind—the telephone line just came in.”
“Thank Christ,” L.Q. said and dropped back against a tree exhausted.
Out in front a clatter of small arms fire rattled as the company contacted an enemy patrol. “Got a cigarette? I dropped mine jumping out of the buffalo this morning.”
“Here, L.Q.”
“Thanks.” He put the cigarette between his lips. A runner dashed in. A sudden burst of gunfire sent everyone sprawling.
“Come on,” the runner panted, “we’re moving up to hook on with Easy Company…hey, L.Q…. hey, what the hell…Jesus!