Pacific Sniper

“When the Japs are here, you’ll know. Believe me. In the meantime, knock it off and show some fire discipline. If the Japs didn’t know where we were before, we sure as hell just drew them a map.”

Reluctantly, the men had stopped shooting into the darkness. If nothing else, the one-sided firefight had been a way to release tension.

“I know I heard something,” the soldier muttered again, sounding miserable in his nearby foxhole.

“All right,” Lieutenant Steele said, sounding calmer now. “Everybody’s jumpy. Listen, if anybody leaves his foxhole, make sure you know the password.” He repeated it quietly so that those in the vicinity could hear it. “Pollywog.”

“Sounds silly to me,” Philly said with a snort. “What kind of password is that?”

“Thanks for sharing your opinion,” the lieutenant said in a tone that meant he hadn’t appreciated Philly’s comment at all. Philly seemed to shrink in the darkness. He hadn’t meant for the lieutenant to hear him.

But the lieutenant wasn’t ready to let him off the hook just yet.

“On Guadal, we learned that the Jap infiltrators were pretty good at picking up on our passwords,” the lieutenant said. “The thing is that the Japs have a hard time pronouncing the letter L. That sound is not part of their language. They’d butcher your name, Philly, that’s for sure. So if you ask for the password and someone can’t pronounce it, chances are, it’s not one of us. Now, do you still think that’s a dumb password?”

“No, Honcho,” Philly admitted.

After the outburst of fire, it was clear that nobody was going to get any more sleep. The soldiers settled down to watch and wait.

As it turned out, the enemy waited just long enough for them to get bored and let their guard down.

Out of the darkness, they heard running feet.

“Who’s out there?” somebody shouted. “What’s the password?”

There wasn’t any answer. Instead, several figures began to take shape, shadows moving fast. The soldiers who spotted the enemy felt mesmerized, still chastened after shooting at nothing earlier, and their fingers remained frozen on their triggers.

Then came a bloodcurdling scream out of the darkness: “Aaaiiiee!” A Japanese battle cry.

Something flew through the air.

Too late, the soldiers realized it was a grenade, which bounced into a foxhole and exploded.

Now there were more screams, but these were not more Japanese battle cries. They were the agonized screams of dead and dying soldiers.

“Japs!” someone yelled.

Another grenade flew in and exploded. Somebody lit a phosphorous flare, and in the harsh white glare they could see a couple of figures charging at them with rifles, bayonets glinting.

Deke quickly fired and dropped one of the attackers.

Lieutenant Steele’s shotgun took out the other enemy soldiers.

“It’s starting,” Steele said. “This is just what the Japs did on Guadal. They’ll keep this up all night, attacking us in twos and threes, just to wear us down. Everybody, stay alert.”

The warning was unnecessary. The men gazed uneasily into the darkness for fifteen minutes before the next attack came. This time, they distinctly heard a single word being shouted, “Banzai!”

They had all heard of banzai attacks before. The word alone struck fear into their hearts.

Another flare was lit, illuminating the landscape with its harsh light like a lightning bolt hanging in the sky.

Framed against the light, a soldier had managed to get right up on top of them. While the other small group of attackers was busy shouting Banzai!, this Jap had been so stealthy that they hadn’t heard him at all.

To their surprise, he was not carrying a rifle, as were the other attackers.

Instead, the light glinted off a sword.

“It’s a Jap officer!” Philly shouted. “He looks like a goddamn samurai!”

The Japanese officer waved the blade wildly as he shouted and ran at the foxholes as if sheer fury could drive out the Americans. Maybe it could. Still green, the GIs were so stunned by the sight of the screaming, sword-waving Japanese that nobody fired at the attacker.

Finally, a soldier jumped up to confront him, brandishing his own rifle and bayonet. Expertly, the Japanese sidestepped the GI and struck at him with the sword. Screaming, the man went down.

The Japanese officer continued his one-man attack.

Standing above the foxholes, he slashed down at the GIs below. Caught by surprise, some raised their hands and arms to stop the blade. They were cut badly by the razor-sharp sword.

“Just shoot the bastard!” Lieutenant Steele shouted, trying to get his shotgun into play. The problem was that the attacker was already in among them, and firing meant risking hitting one of their own.

Meanwhile, the Japanese officer continued to hack and slash.

Deke was having the same problem getting a clear shot. He crawled out of the foxhole. His plan was to get the muzzle of his rifle right against the Jap if he had to—if he could even get that close with that blade whirring around.