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By Root 1402 0

floor, men stepping up and over the tables. Adams saw Ferucci now, the sergeant pushing a man in front of him, out through the hatchway, the sergeant turning back with a quick glance at the lieutenant, a silent signal, yes, good. Adams was caught up in the flow of men, but he understood now, felt his heart racing, his hands shaking. The fear was in all of them, paralyzing, but the lieutenant had pulled it out of them, putting it to use, directing it where it needed to go. Porter still pointed the way, the men filing quickly out through the hatchway that would take them topside. Adams followed, was suddenly stabbed by a hard jolt of thunder, the echoes of artillery fire. It rolled down around them all, thumps and thuds, echoing through the steel corridor. The Marines rushed to the ladders, pushing toward another hatchway that took them out into the cool night air. They poured out onto the deck of the transport ship, and it was Adams’s turn now. He ducked low through the oval hatchway, smelled the stink of smoke, saw flashes of light. The guns were firing on all sides of them, blinding light, the mass of faces reflecting the glow. Each thump punched him, the deck beneath his feet vibrating, the entire ship engulfed by the violence of the enormous fleet around them. Adams moved with the men around him, toward the railings, the men packing in tightly, their eyes adjusting, seeing the streaks of fire cutting through the last shadows of the night. The firing all went in one direction, and Adams fought to see above the heads in front of him, to see the target, the place that now had a name. The darkness had begun to lift, a hint of gray. The horizon was uneven, low hills, peppered with splashes of fire. The smoke was swirling over the deck, and Adams felt his eyes watering, wiped furiously, tried to breathe, covering his mouth. But the smoke couldn’t hide the massed fire from a thousand guns, ships far out on both sides pouring fire toward a narrow span of beach, and the hills beyond.

Whether the navy had done this every day for a week made no difference to the men who watched this now. With the first hint of dawn, the men could finally see Okinawa, the landing zones blasted, erupting into flashes of fire and rock and mud. Adams stood with the men of his platoon, his company, his regiment, some of them seeing this before, who knew what this meant, and others who had no idea what would happen next. Through the vast crowd on the deck there was still fear, but it was held away by the spectacle. They watched with anxious excitement, tight stomachs, and for some, still the sickness, the tears. But for many the fear was gone, at least for those who were not yet ready for what daylight would bring. As the warships threw their vicious fire onto the beaches, Adams shared the same exhilaration of many of the men around him. They were captivated by a magnificent show.

7. ADAMS

“GREEN TWO” BEACH, OKINAWA

APRIL 1, 1945, 8:30 A.M.

No one spoke, the rumble of the landing craft pushing them through the water’s surface in a slow, sickening roll. Adams did as the men around him, kept his stare on the back of the man closest to him, trying to ignore the stink of vomit, the helmet that would suddenly drop low, the sickness pulling a man to his knees. He felt the pressure from men behind him, pushed up tight against Adams’s backpack, as tight as Adams was pressed into the man to his front.

All around them the shellfire continued, but much lighter now, the bombardment from the navy’s smaller patrol boats that rolled forward alongside the landing craft. The smoke was there again, washing over them, mixing with the exhaust from the churning engine of the landing craft. Above, Adams heard a new sound, planes close overhead, some of the men looking up with him, a glimpse of the blue Corsairs, the navy’s best aerial weapon. One man let out a cheer, but no one joined him. The gunboats close by continued to fire, sharp thumps, but then, nothing, the guns silent. Adams peered up, saw the closest boat veering away, as though its job was done.