chatter of thirty caliber machine gun fire. They looked at one another, “Sounds like an attack,” said Hooper. They held onto each other as they limped towards the fighting. They couldn’t see the front line yet, but they could see the entire Marine air squadron launching from Henderson field. O'Connor wondered if there were bombers coming or they were simply getting out of harm’s way.
The gunfire from the front was one solid sound. There was no pause, no single shots, just the constant sound of concentrated fire coming in and going out.
They were halfway to the front line when stray bullets started smacking trees and whizzing by like angry bees. They started using the downed trees and bomb craters for cover as they went forward. No use getting hit way back here without getting into the fight.
They got to a large bomb crater at the eastern edge of the runways and poked their heads up. O'Connor was still a bit fuzzy from the pain, but he could see the Japanese were in amongst the company’s slit trenches and foxholes. As he watched soldiers started coming out of their holes and engaging hand to hand. He could see the gleaming steel of bayonets from here. His gut turned, thinking what his comrades were facing. Hand to hand combat was the most terrifying thing he could think of on the battlefield. The thought of having to do it in his condition almost made him sick again.
A bullet snapped, O'Connor hunkered down, but Hooper thumped him on the shoulder, “See that hole? The one straight in front of us?” O'Connor lifted his head and nodded, “If we can get to that I think we’ll have a good line of sight on these suckers, be able to lend some firepower.”
O'Connor nodded and launched himself out of the hole. Crouching was too painful so he stayed upright and shuffled as fast as he could to the hole, Hooper right on his tail. They threw themselves into cover. They doubted any Japs would be paying attention to two injured soldiers behind the line, but there were so many stray bullets around they could easily be hit.
The exertion and their wounds took their breath away. When they were ready they crawled to the top of the crater and peered over the lip. They brought their rifles up. It was a good firing platform. The hole wasn’t deep. It provided cover, but didn’t force them to fight to keep from falling to the bottom. They searched for targets, but found the scene too confused. It was difficult to discern the enemy from friendlies. They couldn’t shoot without possibly hitting one of their own guys.
Hooper nudged him, “If any bust through, we’ll pop ‘em.” O'Connor nodded and watched the scene over the sights of his M1. Every fiber of his being wanted to jump up and join the fight, but he knew he’d be a liability in his wounded state. He wouldn’t last ten seconds against an uninjured enemy.
They watched the gruesome battle in frustration without firing a shot. O'Connor watched men die, Americans and Japanese alike. He felt guilty, but deep down he was also relieved not be involved in that hell. Hooper said, “To the right, see those guys, they’ve busted through.” O'Connor swung his rifle and found the targets. Five or six Japanese were past the line of foxholes and slit trenches and were running towards the rear. “Bastards are heading for the hospital, they’ll butcher those guys.”
O'Connor found his target and tracked him as he ran. They were sixty yards away and running from left to right. He’d have to lead them like a sprinting deer. He pulled the trigger, but his man kept on running, albeit a bit faster. O'Connor adjusted and fired again. This time the man went down. He fired at the next man and brought him down with three shots. Hooper got to the end of his clip, the “ping” seeming to echo. He’d dropped a man too.
There were three more, but they dropped and found cover searching for the unknown shooters. O'Connor saw a pith helmet pop out of a depression in the ground,
The gunfire from the front was one solid sound. There was no pause, no single shots, just the constant sound of concentrated fire coming in and going out.
They were halfway to the front line when stray bullets started smacking trees and whizzing by like angry bees. They started using the downed trees and bomb craters for cover as they went forward. No use getting hit way back here without getting into the fight.
They got to a large bomb crater at the eastern edge of the runways and poked their heads up. O'Connor was still a bit fuzzy from the pain, but he could see the Japanese were in amongst the company’s slit trenches and foxholes. As he watched soldiers started coming out of their holes and engaging hand to hand. He could see the gleaming steel of bayonets from here. His gut turned, thinking what his comrades were facing. Hand to hand combat was the most terrifying thing he could think of on the battlefield. The thought of having to do it in his condition almost made him sick again.
A bullet snapped, O'Connor hunkered down, but Hooper thumped him on the shoulder, “See that hole? The one straight in front of us?” O'Connor lifted his head and nodded, “If we can get to that I think we’ll have a good line of sight on these suckers, be able to lend some firepower.”
O'Connor nodded and launched himself out of the hole. Crouching was too painful so he stayed upright and shuffled as fast as he could to the hole, Hooper right on his tail. They threw themselves into cover. They doubted any Japs would be paying attention to two injured soldiers behind the line, but there were so many stray bullets around they could easily be hit.
The exertion and their wounds took their breath away. When they were ready they crawled to the top of the crater and peered over the lip. They brought their rifles up. It was a good firing platform. The hole wasn’t deep. It provided cover, but didn’t force them to fight to keep from falling to the bottom. They searched for targets, but found the scene too confused. It was difficult to discern the enemy from friendlies. They couldn’t shoot without possibly hitting one of their own guys.
Hooper nudged him, “If any bust through, we’ll pop ‘em.” O'Connor nodded and watched the scene over the sights of his M1. Every fiber of his being wanted to jump up and join the fight, but he knew he’d be a liability in his wounded state. He wouldn’t last ten seconds against an uninjured enemy.
They watched the gruesome battle in frustration without firing a shot. O'Connor watched men die, Americans and Japanese alike. He felt guilty, but deep down he was also relieved not be involved in that hell. Hooper said, “To the right, see those guys, they’ve busted through.” O'Connor swung his rifle and found the targets. Five or six Japanese were past the line of foxholes and slit trenches and were running towards the rear. “Bastards are heading for the hospital, they’ll butcher those guys.”
O'Connor found his target and tracked him as he ran. They were sixty yards away and running from left to right. He’d have to lead them like a sprinting deer. He pulled the trigger, but his man kept on running, albeit a bit faster. O'Connor adjusted and fired again. This time the man went down. He fired at the next man and brought him down with three shots. Hooper got to the end of his clip, the “ping” seeming to echo. He’d dropped a man too.
There were three more, but they dropped and found cover searching for the unknown shooters. O'Connor saw a pith helmet pop out of a depression in the ground,
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