1945

"This one's really something else, sir." They followed the tracks less than a hundred yards inland, to where a cave had been dug into a low hill. Inside, a long tubular shape rested on a flat handcar.

"General, this is one of their human torpedoes. They call it a kaiten. The intelligence boys were all over it since they thought all the kaiten were launched from ships. Now they know the Japs can send them down tracks like this, and into the water, from anyplace along the coast of Japan. Intelligence is particularly concerned that some of these bastards will be launched at us from the confines of Ariake and Kagoshima bays where the bigger ships won't have so much freedom to maneuver and escape."

"What happened to this one?"

"There were a couple of dead Japs lying around a little earlier, and one of them was probably the pilot. My guess is that a near miss from a bomb killed them. Maybe the same thing happened to the guys who were supposed to man the little boats. Who cares, just so long as they never got launched."

"Good," Monck muttered as he thought about the ships lying offshore. A number of them could be seen from where he was standing. Human torpedoes came in several types and had effective ranges that began with several thousand yards and went up to several miles. Again it was appalling to think of someone riding a torpedo as if it were a horse and sending it crashing into the hull of a ship.

Monck shook his head and thought of the men who were fighting and dying at sea, and then of his own men, who were clawing their way up each hill they confronted. Like most soldiers, he had often been jealous of the navy and that their war was relatively clean. It seemed to have just gotten a whole lot dirtier.

"Parker, just what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"

He had no answer. Monck gestured to their guards and they began the journey back to their regiment.

CHAPTER 38

KYUSHU, NORTH OF MIYAZAKI

Platoon Sgt. Frank Collins slithered down the steep and rain-slicked hill oblivious to the light but constant rain. His clothing and the soft flesh underneath were cut where the small, wet rocks that jutted from the volcanic soil had sliced at him. He ignored them all. His only urge was to make himself one with the hateful ground and thus not be seen by the guns on the hill above him.

The thought that some Jap was looking down at him and aiming either his cannon or machine gun at him made him whimper with fear. With every jerky motion of his arms and legs, he prayed that he would be allowed to make another. He tried desperately to stay within the folds of the hill, but he had that nightmare feeling that scores of slanty eyes were glaring at him and laughing at his slow, painful progress to shelter.

Mud-covered and exhausted, he slipped into a small ravine and felt a surge of relief. He was safe. At least for the moment. Collins sucked a few lungfuls of air and moved over to Lieutenant Morrell, who looked at him with concern.

"You okay?" Paul asked.

"Other than scared shitless, Lieutenant, I'm just fine, thank you." Morrell offered Sergeant Collins his canteen, and Collins accepted it gratefully. The water, warm and rancid, tasted undeservedly delicious. Not even the purification tablets could rob it of its taste. Collins took a dirty rag from his pocket and wiped sweat and cold mist from his face. "I want to take up another line of work, sir."

"Don't we all, Sarge. Now, what'd you see up there?"

The platoon's advance up the fairly steep hill was halted by a brief cannonade and the staccato crackle of Japanese machine guns. They'd dropped where they were, then scrambled downhill for cover and dug in as the previously unseen cannon again fired from a bunker about two-thirds of the way up the hill. At that point, they realized the Jap gunners had them pinned down. They could not advance and they couldn't retreat without exposing themselves to additional casualties.

First they'd called on artillery support, which hadn't been effective. The rain obscured their spotter's vision and the maps of the area were inaccurate. With logic firmly on their side, the regiment's artillery was reluctant to loose a heavy barrage on the Jap position when American soldiers were only a couple of hundred yards away. As a result, only a few rounds had been fired onto the hill, and none had shut down the Jap gun.

Air cover was equally unavailable because of the layer of mist that touched the top of the hill. The planes would not fly and bomb blindly either. The platoon was on its own. They'd plunked a few mortar rounds at the Jap position, but these had merely churned up some dirt.

Then Sergeant Collins had made his solitary patrol.