had his hands full. He had to kill the first man quick or face two of them. He went to thrust, but his foot slipped on something slick and he fell onto his back. The first soldier loomed over him, his eyes crazy with kill lust and revenge. Dunphy couldn’t move. He tried to roll, but whatever had made him fall wasn’t allowing him to move well. He saw the point of the bayonet coming down fast. He waited for the pain of the impact and the cutting of his vital organs. This was it.
He shut his eyes, but the pain never happened. He opened his eyes and the crazed soldier was replaced by blue sky. He scrambled off the gore he’d slipped on and stood up looking for the soldier. There was a smoking hulk off to the side. He guessed that was the Jap. He saw Troutman working the bolt of a captured Arisaka, smoke wafting from the barrel.
He didn’t have time to thank him as the second soldier was on him. He’d dropped his weapon and reached for the first thing he saw, the dropped Samurai sword. It was heavier than it looked, but perfectly balanced. The handle was soaked in blood making the leather slippery. He was no swordsman, but it couldn’t be that much different than boxing. He’d tried fencing as a child, but didn’t like all the formality. He much preferred the raw power of the well-placed punch.
He held the sword with two hands. The soldier was bigger than most, burly and menacing. His bloodied bayonet was coming straight for him. When the Japanese saw the sword his eyes turned hard. He recognized his officers’ weapon.
He took a balanced lunge and Dunphy stepped to the side. He took a short thrust trying for the big man’s shoulder, but missed. The soldier feinted right then went low, Dunphy barely evaded the slice. He took a step back then attacked. He swung in a low arc, the sword clanged against the rifle. Dunphy was sure the sword would break, but its tempered steel took the shot without so much as a scratch. The soldier followed the attack with one of his own, thrusting then slicing upwards to catch his arm. Again Dunphy sprang away on light feet. As he did so he jabbed at the Jap’s hands and cut him. The soldier grit his teeth and used the pain to fuel his attack.
It came like lightning, but Dunphy expected it. He feinted left, the soldier following then went right and brought the sword down hard. The blade went through the man’s arm like it was cutting through warm butter. The soldier screamed, but held onto the rifle with his other hand. The detached arm and hand still clutching the rifle.
The wounded soldier kept coming, but the fight was over. He made a clumsy attack that Dunphy easily avoided and brought the samurai sword down on his head. It traveled down his body cleaving it in half to his sternum. He pulled the sword and watched the halves of the man fall to either side.
He looked up for the next fight, but there were no more. Soldiers littered the ground all around him. He held the sword at the ready, breathing hard, ready to take on whatever they could throw at him, but there was no one left. To his right Troutman still had the Arisaka rifle. He was down in a crouch sighting down the barrel, swinging back and forth searching for targets. The chatter of the machine guns was absent, Dunphy wondered how long they’d been silent, had they been overrun ?
The sounds of wounded men assaulted his senses. He heard desperate pleas for medics and the gurgling sounds of men’s final breaths. He stayed tensed and ready until Crandall walked up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Dunphy swung around with the sword and almost lopped his head off. He stopped in the nick of time when recognition came to his heightened senses.
Crandall said, “Christ, it’s over, it’s over. They’re all dead or retreated. Put that damned thing away.” Dunphy stared and realized how close he’d come to killing the man he’d saved only minutes ago. He dropped the sword in the mud and blood and sank to his knees
He shut his eyes, but the pain never happened. He opened his eyes and the crazed soldier was replaced by blue sky. He scrambled off the gore he’d slipped on and stood up looking for the soldier. There was a smoking hulk off to the side. He guessed that was the Jap. He saw Troutman working the bolt of a captured Arisaka, smoke wafting from the barrel.
He didn’t have time to thank him as the second soldier was on him. He’d dropped his weapon and reached for the first thing he saw, the dropped Samurai sword. It was heavier than it looked, but perfectly balanced. The handle was soaked in blood making the leather slippery. He was no swordsman, but it couldn’t be that much different than boxing. He’d tried fencing as a child, but didn’t like all the formality. He much preferred the raw power of the well-placed punch.
He held the sword with two hands. The soldier was bigger than most, burly and menacing. His bloodied bayonet was coming straight for him. When the Japanese saw the sword his eyes turned hard. He recognized his officers’ weapon.
He took a balanced lunge and Dunphy stepped to the side. He took a short thrust trying for the big man’s shoulder, but missed. The soldier feinted right then went low, Dunphy barely evaded the slice. He took a step back then attacked. He swung in a low arc, the sword clanged against the rifle. Dunphy was sure the sword would break, but its tempered steel took the shot without so much as a scratch. The soldier followed the attack with one of his own, thrusting then slicing upwards to catch his arm. Again Dunphy sprang away on light feet. As he did so he jabbed at the Jap’s hands and cut him. The soldier grit his teeth and used the pain to fuel his attack.
It came like lightning, but Dunphy expected it. He feinted left, the soldier following then went right and brought the sword down hard. The blade went through the man’s arm like it was cutting through warm butter. The soldier screamed, but held onto the rifle with his other hand. The detached arm and hand still clutching the rifle.
The wounded soldier kept coming, but the fight was over. He made a clumsy attack that Dunphy easily avoided and brought the samurai sword down on his head. It traveled down his body cleaving it in half to his sternum. He pulled the sword and watched the halves of the man fall to either side.
He looked up for the next fight, but there were no more. Soldiers littered the ground all around him. He held the sword at the ready, breathing hard, ready to take on whatever they could throw at him, but there was no one left. To his right Troutman still had the Arisaka rifle. He was down in a crouch sighting down the barrel, swinging back and forth searching for targets. The chatter of the machine guns was absent, Dunphy wondered how long they’d been silent, had they been overrun ?
The sounds of wounded men assaulted his senses. He heard desperate pleas for medics and the gurgling sounds of men’s final breaths. He stayed tensed and ready until Crandall walked up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. Dunphy swung around with the sword and almost lopped his head off. He stopped in the nick of time when recognition came to his heightened senses.
Crandall said, “Christ, it’s over, it’s over. They’re all dead or retreated. Put that damned thing away.” Dunphy stared and realized how close he’d come to killing the man he’d saved only minutes ago. He dropped the sword in the mud and blood and sank to his knees
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