1945

Orlando grunted. "I make that a thirty-seven-millimeter gun, which tells me that it's a Jap Model 95. She's got two machine guns in her as well, but they're probably useless with them dug in like that. The Model 95 is a dinky piece of shit with thin armor. I've got her outgunned with my seventy-six millimeter. If I can get a clear shot at her, one of my rounds'll go through her like shit through a goose."

"Be my guest," Paul offered. "You going straight up the hill?"

"Naw, and I can't afford to get in a shooting match with that pig. I've only got twenty rounds left. I wanna flank her, and I want some infantry to protect me from any little yellow assholes coming out of holes with grenades or Molotov cocktails. This might be a better tank than the Jap, but she will burn real fast under the right conditions, and I don't want to lose a tread to that thirty-seven of theirs, either. That happens and I gotta sit there and wait for nightfall just like you were. No, I wanna take her in the side or rear. That'll also give me a chance to find a safe way up that hill where my tank won't get stuck or slide back. Who's gonna lead the troops going with me?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess I am."

Sergeant Orlando smiled openly. "Good. I know too damn many officers who would volunteer their mother rather than go up that hill."

"Sergeant Orlando, I am not thrilled at the thought."

"Lieutenant, I'm not either. Y'know there were four tanks in my platoon yesterday? One blew an engine and is being fixed, while another got blown up by a crazy Jap with a bottle full of gas and all five guys in it got burned to death. Then the fourth rolled down one of these hills and rolled over. Nobody got killed in that one, but everybody has broken bones and a couple of my friends may never walk again. So, if you don't mind, I'm a little leery of this place and am gonna take it as cautious as I can."

Paul nodded. "We'll take good care of you, Sergeant."

"Then let's go." Orlando closed the hatch. A moment later, the Sherman rumbled out of the ravine and moved toward the platoon's left flank. Paul, a half dozen riflemen, and one man with the flamethrower scrambled alongside and struggled to keep the tank between themselves and the Japanese on the hill.

Paul had ordered Collins and the rest of the platoon to move up around the right flank and keep the second machine gun occupied. He presumed the cannon in the bunker would concentrate its fire on Sergeant Orlando's hulking tank when it was visible.

They got to where the Jap tank couldn't see the infantry well and started up the hill. The wet ground made the climb difficult for the tank, and a couple of times Paul thought that Sergeant Orlando would say he couldn't make it. But Orlando was both skilled and persistent and they kept inching upward. The flanking Japanese machine gun opened up and bullets rattled harmlessly off the Sherman's turret, while the Jap tank's cannon fired sporadically to no effect. Sergeant Orlando's tank returned fire with the machine gun in her hull, hitting nothing but keeping the Jap gunners' heads down.

The infantrymen stayed in the shadow of the tank and kept an eye out for anything that looked like a camouflaged hole from where a Jap might emerge. Nothing stirred and the men gained confidence as they climbed farther up the hill.

The Americans drew closer until they could see the tip of the barrel of the machine gun as it spewed out its hate. Paul tried not to think of what might be going through the gunners' minds as they saw the American tank approaching. They had to know they were doomed. Why didn't they retreat? What the hell was wrong with these people?

Just as Paul was beginning to wonder when Orlando would use his main gun, he was rocked back by the sound and concussion of the Sherman's 76mm cannon firing. An instant later, the Japanese machine gun disappeared in a cloud of smoke and a shower of rocks.

Safer now, but still moving carefully, the men spread out and advanced on the smoking nest. When they looked in, they saw the shredded remains of what might have been four or five Japs. With all the pieces of smoking flesh lying about, it was hard to be exact.

The Sherman's hatch opened and Orlando looked down on his handiwork. "Not bad," he reasoned. "One shot is all it took."

"Yeah," said Paul. "Now all we got to do is get that buried tank."

Orlando closed the hatch and the Sherman started up again, this time veering for the higher ground above and behind the bunker. Paul understood immediately. Orlando was going to hit the Jap from behind. The way the bunker had been laid out, it probably lacked a firing port in the rear. This meant the Jap would be blind and helpless as they advanced down on it.

Orlando drove the Sherman up the hill to where he was above the bunker and within a hundred feet of it. Paul gripped his rifle tightly and found it hard to comprehend that live Japs were just a few feet from him.