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By Root 1509 0

of men on rock, grunts and hard breathing. Adams crawled forward, close to a fat ragged boulder, brush on one side, good cover, and he rolled onto his back, sat, tried to catch his breath. The faces were there now, wide-eyed terror and exhaustion, most from his own platoon, the names rolling into his brain. Ferucci was on his knees, peering up, then dropping down, the man who had done this before, who knew what to expect. Adams saw Welty lying on his side, wiping the water off his glasses. Close beside Adams was Yablonski, wide-eyed fury, aiming his rifle, but not firing. No one spoke, all of them doing what Adams was doing, gathering themselves, finding their wind, checking their rifles, some seeking targets. Ferucci crawled forward, probing the brush, and Adams felt a stab of fear, no, stay back … and now Ferucci shouted, “Here! Jap trenches! Good cover!”

Adams saw Porter responding, holding up his hands, low words, “Wait here!”

The lieutenant disappeared into the brush, and quickly there was a shout, passed on by the sergeants, more calls out in both directions.

“Move forward! Into the trenches!”

Adams rolled to his knees, followed the others through the thorny thickets, the ground suddenly opening up in front of him, a narrow ditch of sand and rock. Men were sliding down, rifles ready, good cover from the depth of the trench and the rocks and patches of brush beyond. Adams looked for Ferucci, saw the sergeant aiming his carbine, the others mimicking him with their own weapons, the longer M-1s laid up on flat ground, men seeking targets. For a long moment no one spoke, and Adams felt himself flinching, expecting … something. Now Porter was there, slipping along the wide, winding trench.

“Stay low! Keep to this cover! I’ll find Captain Bennett! He should be to our right!”

Adams watched Porter scramble away, was suddenly scared for the man, stay down, dammit. The fear built up in a thick wave, the calm and the silence around him unnerving, unexpected. Adams pulled the M-1 close to his chest again, laid back against the side of the trench, saw out to one side, a wide dugout, a slab of concrete. Words filled his brain, the logic, an artillery emplacement, but there was no sign of the artillery piece at all, no blasted parts, no twisted steel. His mind focused on the flow of men still coming up behind him, the trench filling rapidly, men now calling out, sergeants, pulling their men through the narrow brush, dropping down, lining the trench, the gun pit. Close to him, Ferucci said, “The damn Japs gave us a gift! I’ll be damned!”

Another man, a sergeant Adams didn’t know, said, “You sure about that? They could have mined this thing, booby-trapped it. They start tossing grenades on us, we’re dead.”

“If that was true, we’d already be blown to hell, wouldn’t we? And there’s not a Jap in sight. I think we wiped these bastards out, or scared them off this beach. The damn swab jockeys did their job.”

Beside Adams, Yablonski said, “I don’t see any guts. No bones. Nobody got wiped out here, Sarge. They ran.”

Ferucci peered out again, shook his head.

“To where? That’s what we gotta worry about.”

Adams saw movement, men pulling in their legs, making way for the lieutenant. Porter crawled low, a quick scramble down the trench, red-faced, breathing heavily.

“Sergeants, gather up!”

The men came close, Ferucci, the others, and Porter waited for them, then said in a hard whisper, “Listen up! Captain says there’s been no resistance so far. Radio reports from down the beach all say the same thing. The Japs left these works empty. Gun emplacements all down the beach, but nobody’s home! So, they gotta be laying low. But nobody gets careless, you got that? We’re to push up through that brush field out ahead. There’s some rocks up beyond that, more good cover. The Japs might be waiting for us there, so keep low! Space your men … five yards between ’em. Our mortar crews are already setting up in those low rocks to the left. If all hell breaks loose, they’re watching us, and they’ll give us support. Take five minutes to catch your breaths,