1945

"Look at 'em," Ruger said. He pointed in the direction of a half dozen confused, clean, and depressingly healthy young soldiers. "Replacements, and they're so scared they can hardly stand there without pissing themselves."

"I'll spread them out so they won't be together and feed off each other's fears," Paul said.

Paul was fortunate to get any more help. Only those few bodies who had already been in one of Kyushu's several replacement depots were being sent to frontline units. All other possible replacements en route or not quite landed had been shunted off to the Philippines or Okinawa to take part in the invasion of Honshu. Paul didn't really know which group was the luckier. Honshu didn't sound like any more fun than Kyushu had been. At least he'd got six new soldiers if they didn't wind up hurting themselves before they got acclimated.

"I love what you've done with the tank," Ruger joked. Sergeant Orlando's beloved Sherman was in the center of the perimeter and at the very top of the hill, where it was surrounded by an earthen berm. It had taken a great deal of time and effort to maneuver and manhandle the metal beast up Round Top and was only possible after the remaining trees had been chopped down. While it gave Orlando a complete field of fire, it also exposed the tank, which was one of the reasons for the berm. Someone had mentioned that from a distance the tank on the hill looked like a nipple on a tit, or maybe a fly on a pile of shit. Orlando didn't think it was funny.

"I just wish he still had the big gun," Paul said. While it was in the rear for maintenance, a tube had been inserted in the 76mm's barrel. This changed it from a cannon to a giant-sized flamethrower that could belch fire for more than a hundred yards out. "I have doubts about the change."

Orlando had heard the comment. He waved and grinned. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, we haven't failed you yet."

"No, you haven't," Paul said, laughing. "I just wish you had gotten more wire when you were in the back."

Ruger winced at the comment. There just wasn't enough barbed wire to go around. Literally. The perimeter on Round Top was surrounded by a thin line of fencing that would have been more appropriate for preventing cattle from straying from a Montana ranch, instead of protecting a fortified hill. The little ring of wire would not be much of a deterrent.

"Want some artillery?" Ruger asked.

"Sure," Paul answered. "What's the catch?"

"Nothing, although maybe I feel guilty about the little bit of wire and the absolute lack of mines. General Monck gave me two 105-millimeter pack howitzers, and this looks like a real good spot for them. They can protect the flanks of the companies to your right and left, and they can hit the high ground in front of you."

"Mount Ugly?" Paul grinned.

Ruger looked at the scarred and denuded hill in front of them and decided that the name fit marvelously. Technically, it was in Japanese hands, but Paul's soldiers had scorched it and stripped it bare of vegetation so that the Japs could not use it for concealment and sneak up on Round Top.

Mt. Ugly was a little higher than Round Top, and that was a concern as the Japanese could hide behind it and be out of sight. However, if the Americans took Mt. Ugly, there would be another, higher hill behind it, and they would also be sticking out of the American lines and be even more vulnerable than before. There was no choice but to make the best of Round Top. The howitzers would help there as well. With their high trajectory, they would be able to lob shells just over the ridgeline of Mt. Ugly and maybe shake up anybody forming up for an attack.

Paul shivered as a blast of cold, wet air hit him in the face. One of the advantages of entrenching was that there were places on the hill that were actually dry and fairly warm. Of course the trenches themselves were dank and ankle-deep in water, which might lead to trench foot or frostbite, but the bunkers were fairly comfortable.

"Want to go inside?" Paul suggested. "We've got hot coffee and some doughnuts left over from breakfast."

Ruger readily agreed. The war was getting a lot more civilized. Why stay out in the rain if you don't have to? The weather, however, concerned him. It wasn't yet bad enough to put a halt to air support or artillery, but it was making things difficult. It wouldn't take all that much more to shift a lot of advantages to the Japanese, wherever they were hiding.

Again the wind swirled. It was raining harder now. Ruger touched Paul on the arm and pointed across the valley to the scarred bulk of Mt. Ugly. It was scarcely visible.

CHAPTER 70

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA