The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [143]
The command came from Yablonski, and Porter blew through the stink of the explosives, the smell of something horribly rotten, said, “No! Stay here!”
Yablonski turned now, animal fury, said, “This cave might go right into the center of this hill. We can take out the whole damn thing, wipe out a flock of these bastards!”
Yablonski turned away, seemed ready to carry out his own idea, and Porter kept his grip on the man’s leg.
“With what? There’s three of us, Private! As narrow as this cave is … we’re easy pickings for one Jap back there with a pop gun. We’re backing out of here! Let’s keep moving. The idea is to get to the top, remember? Both of you … you get out into the open, start climbing, find cover anywhere you can. The boys down below see us, they’ll cover us, and I’ll try to signal them to come up too.”
Yablonski seemed to calm from Porter’s unyielding grip on his leg. He turned again and Porter saw the disgust, knew Yablonski had only one way of thinking, that this cave might go all the way to Tokyo. Behind the lieutenant, Welty said, “We need to get more men up here. Those Japs above us know we’re here. Right now we’re just stuck in a hole.”
Yablonski seemed resigned to his lost opportunity to end the war, slid backward, knelt in the narrow gap.
“Okay, boss, what now?”
Porter moved back close to the mouth of the cave, desperate for fresh air. He waved the carbine outside, hoped it would attract the right kind of attention.
“Saddle up. We’re climbing.”
He stepped out of the cave, navigated the sharp drop immediately in front of the opening, slipped quickly to one side, making room for the other two. Below, the men were responding as he had hoped, rapidly making their way up through the morass of uneven hillside. Yes, dammit! Let’s go! He crouched, spun toward the crest of the hill, scanned quickly, searching for the Japanese, saw nothing but the jagged ridgeline. Where are you, you bastards? He kept the carbine at his shoulder, ready to put out any covering fire his men might need, felt Yablonski beside him, doing the same. Yablonski had the same questions, said, “They’re up there! I saw them!”
“Stay on ’em. Anything moves, blow hell out of it.”
Welty was there as well, a third muzzle aimed upward, and Porter could hear the sound of the men coming up from behind, said, “Time to climb. Let’s get to that ridge.”
He rose from his knees, still in a crouch, the carbine pointed forward from his waist. He stepped up past a muddy hole, a lump of rock, the footing slippery, uncertain, kept his eyes sharp on the ridgeline. The sounds of the fight still rolled over the hill, an echo he had grown used to. The roar seemed to grow, closer, machine guns, rifle fire, men screaming, but he tried to ignore that, kept his eyes on one place, where the Japanese had been, where they would certainly be again. Behind him the others were gathering quickly, following him, a surge of two dozen men, led by the man in charge, the man who knew what to do. The ridgeline was less than ten feet above him, the flatter ground now rising in a sharp incline, and he dropped his eyes, searched for a foothold, his boots kicking into soft rock. There was a flicker of movement to one side and he glanced that way, a cut in the rocks, a narrow crevice he hadn’t seen before. He started to turn that way, the carbine swinging around, caught the glimpse of a rifle, saw the muzzle, a small black eye pointing toward him. The shot struck him in the chest, tearing through him, a punch knocking him back. He staggered, fell to one knee, and now new sounds came, a sudden burst of rifle fire, close by, the response from the men beside him. His eyes tried to stay on the crack in the rocks, the rifle barrel gone, and he tried to stand, but there was nothing there, no strength, no feeling at all. He took a breath, choked away, reached down with his hands, steadying himself, but his face came down hard on the rocks, no pain, just the hard choking twist in his throat. The shots were growing dull, the roar in his ears fading, a soft silence, and he struggled to