Pacific Sniper

He got up and over the side, then came down with his boots splashing into water. Above him, Ben lost his grip and fell, falling headlong into the sea. Deke reached down and dragged up the sputtering man.

“Go! Go!” an officer shouted.

Tracers and bullets zipped across the surface of the water. On the landing craft, somebody started to shoot back with the big .50 caliber. But not for long. The landing craft were too vulnerable out here and were needed to carry yet more soldiers and supplies ashore. The engines roared and the vessel began to back away, leaving the men.

The soldiers remained several hundred feet from the shoreline. They would be forced to cross the coral reef between their location and the shore.

“Move it!” the sergeant shouted. “Get to the beach! Don’t bunch up!”

“Stick with me, Ben.”

Ben kept pace with Deke, moving parallel to him and staying several feet away, as ordered. It was bright enough now that they could see the shoreline clearly: surf breaking, sand, and beyond the sand thick vegetation like a wall. The navy had shelled the beach last night, and not even one of the trees still had all its fronds, most of which looked broken and twisted. The vegetation beneath looked dense as ever.

Wading through the water was a real slog. Sometimes the water was only knee-deep, and two steps later they were up to their chests. They struggled to keep their rifles dry.

Only the dog didn’t seem to mind. She swam toward shore, barking with excitement, oblivious to the bullets pocking the water around her.

Just ahead of Deke, a soldier from another squad labored through the surf beneath the weight of his pack, gear, and rifle. He vanished beneath the water.

The soldier had stepped into a gap in the surface of the reef, known as a kettle. For the heavily laden troops, these were as deadly as a land mine. He was suddenly in water way over his head. Trapped and unable to get out, weighted down with gear, the man was drowning. Nobody stopped to help.

“Never mind him! Watch the holes!” Sergeant Hawley shouted. “There’s holes in the reef.”

As it turned out, there were a lot of holes. “This damn reef is swiss cheese!” someone hollered.

The reef sloped down, getting deeper rather than shallower toward the shore. The advancing soldiers had reached an impasse. They couldn’t wade the rest of the way, and they sure couldn’t swim. Machine-gun fire continued to pick them off.

Then came the screaming of incoming rounds, arcing over their heads.

“Those belong to us!” Ben shouted gleefully.

“I just hope they know we belong to them,” Deke replied.

For the first time, Deke looked behind them and saw a lone ship standing out to sea, its big guns belching smoke. Beyond the lone destroyer, his eagle eyes could barely make out the smoking hulk of a burning ship, a casualty of the naval battle that had taken place earlier. Whether the ship was Japanese or American, he couldn’t say.

Another volley of shells soared overhead. With telling accuracy, the shells exploded just beyond the beach, pulverizing entire trees, turning them into splinters. Even from a distance, Deke felt the oxygen being sucked from the air by the tremendous blasts. He had to admit that the power of the naval guns was awesome. He was glad not to be on the receiving end.

Sporadic fire continued from land—oddly muted rifle shots, almost like popguns—but the machine guns seemed to have been silenced by the naval bombardment.

In the temporary lull, Sergeant Hawley had found a way across. Deke didn’t like Hawley, but even he had to admit that the sergeant was a brave son of a bitch. A single, narrow ridge of coral ran straight to shore. They would be able to follow it to the beach. However, it wouldn’t be possible to stay spread out. They traversed the ridge in single file, leaving the men dangerously exposed to incoming fire.

Now and then a bullet came in, and a man fell headlong into the water. With the enemy unseen and behind cover, there wasn’t a thing that they could do about it.

“Move it! Move it!”

Hustling across the coral ridge, the troops finally made their way to the beach and flopped down on the sand, rifles pointed toward the dense wall of vegetation that started where the sand ended.

They were still out in the open, the Japs picking at them, pinning the men to the beach.

“Where are those bastards, anyhow?” a man near Deke asked. The soldier stuck his head up to get his bearings, and a bullet pierced his helmet. He flopped back down, lifeless as a rag doll.

Deke was certain that if they stayed put, they’d all end up the same way.

“Now what?” Ben asked, sounding near panic, the whites of his eyes showing.

“We get the hell off this beach, that’s what,” Deke said. He stood up and reached down to haul Ben to his feet. “Let’s go! It’s move or get shot!”

Without waiting for orders, Deke leaped to his feet and charged toward the dark slash of jungle.

Chapter Two

On the beach below, Deke heard the sergeant shout, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, you damn crazy peckerwood!”