The Old Breed

Chapter 6

Cape Gloucester

December 26th, 1943

"Well someone's gonna have to go in first." Nelson said finally.

Bear took a step back and held his hands forward. "I'm gonna give someone else a turn on point."

For almost thirty seconds, no one said anything, no one wanting to go first. I looked around between everyone's faces, and I could tell no one was excited about going into this.

"Aw, hell, move Marines. Little water's not gonna hurt anybody," Hammer finally said, stepping forward, grabbing the machete out of Bear's hand, and taking a step into the muck. You could hear the loud slurp and gurgle of his boots getting sucked into the mud, the water pouring inside the shoes. His leg finally stopped sinking at the knee. "Aw shit," was all Hammer said.

Before I knew what was happening, suddenly I felt a hand, pushing, then I was suddenly stumbling into the swamp behind Hammer. The same loud slurping noise followed as my boots sunk down into thick mud. I grimaced as it rose just over my knees, the water so cloudy I couldn't see them underneath the dirty film. I felt my boots fill up with the gunky water. Something bumped against my leg, and I tensed up, but didn't move.

Actually I did, flipping around back to the Marines still standing dry on the muddy bank.

"Who the hell just did that?" I asked angrily, knowing not to yell for fear of being overheard by God knows who.

Bear smiled, opened his mouth to take credit, instead yelping as he almost took a whopping nosedive into the muck, Nelson standing behind him with his hand extended, a big grin on the sergeant's face. Then without further ado, Nelson stepped in himself.

"Let's go, Wilson," Hammer said from behind my back, causing me to turn again. The corporal was motioning for me to follow him.

I did so, thinking longily for dry land, the water unbearable even after only a minute. The swamp stunk of something fierce, and I wished desperately to hold a hand over my nose, looking back, seeing no one else doing so, trying to man it up myself. I thought suddenly about Jen, realized that this was the first time I'd thought about her all day, probably a new record. I guess war had a way of focusing you on something else. She was probably nice and dry right now, probably in a classroom at college. I'd been so proud of her when we'd found out she'd been accepted to the school of her dreams, the University of Minnesota. She'd been really happy that day. Probably was still happy about it. That sure as hell sounded better than slogging through this shit. I wondered what she was learning, probably something new, something exciting. Well I've learned something too, Jen: the Pacific sucks.

I was really starting to miss Jen. Did she think about me as much as I thought about her? Did she think I was think I was some kind of cool hero rushing through jungled islands, fighting the Japs, and winning a war? I guess in a way, all three things were happening, although I hadn't seen any Japs yet. But the low rumble of artillery seemed to show that they were there somewhere. And those three things sure weren't as cool as they sounded. I bet whatever she was thinking didn't look like this.

"Watch your head," Hammer said, right before my helmet slammed into the big, fallen log I'd seen earlier. The lip of the helmet came back and hit my forehead, a quick flash of pain. Hammer smiled as I tried to regain face, repositioning my helmet on my head. The corporal had purposely waited until it was too late to save me from hitting the tree.

"You're right, Lanky," Hammer said with a quick chuckle. "He is a dreamer."

Hammer didn't wait for a response, ducked under the log, the water rising almost to his collar. It was an awkward fit, the bulky man contorting himself weirdly to try and keep both his face and rifle above the water.