The Old Breed

Chapter 22

White Beach 1, Peleliu

September 15th, 1944

If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine the deafening roars above my head being thunder. I remembered a time I'd spent in the Minnesotan woods once, helping look for a lost skier. It had stormed something fierce that night, lightning every few seconds, rain coming down in thick walls of water. I had fashioned a covered hammock between two trees, a tarp over my head, keeping me dry, the water rushing for lower ground barely three feet below me. I'd stayed awake most of the night, the loud thunder a contrast to the quiet nights I liked to spend in nature. I could only imagine Ted at home, young then, still very frightened by the loud sounds. He was probably curled up next to Mother, the gentle woman comforting him. She used to do the same for me.

"Reminds me of home," Lanky muttered, and I turned to him, didn't let him know I was thinking the same thing.

"Yeah? And how in the hell so?" I asked.

"Arkansas. Now that place can get real hot, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not that I think anyone would ever say otherwise. But we used to get these big lightning storms. Caused by the heat. Some would be silent, beautiful, flashing the clouds up in brilliant white light against the black sky. Others would be noisier than the Navy, big orchestrated roars of thunder, lightning, and more thunder. Think this is thunder, Bishop?"

We both knew the answer. Neither of us wanted to say it.

The night had only slowed the Japs' defense slightly, artillery still firing, our own answering, large explosions, the ground shaking, the night flashing with their light. The ones that hit near us were terrifying, the ground quaking with the force of them, sand and rocks falling down into our meager shelter. Digging in had meant digging small burrows into the side of the ditch, some men not even bothering to dig at all, laying among the bodies. The officers came around, told us to keep on alert, as if any of us weren't, tried to figure at who was who. In the confusion of the landing, many units had become disorganized, men from different companies ending up among other companies, the confusion complete. Slowly the confusion was being unraveled, officers and NCOs guiding men towards their rightful places. The officers were also trying to begin putting together casualty reports, and on one of his rounds, I asked Lieutenant Parsons what it was looking out to be. He said, regimentally, the casualty reports were rising high into the hundreds, nearing nearly a thousand men wounded or killed.

Both Japs and Marines intermittently were sending up flares, each time the night turning bright as day before slowly slipping back into the darkness. Together with the artillery, it was like lightning and thunder.

To the west of us, there seemed to be a hell of a fight going on, machine guns, mortars, small arms, grenades, the whole deal. We were too far away to hear the individual men, could imagine it, shouts for ammo, cries of pain, the sounds of men waging total war on their enemies. Already I felt myself developing the knack that most combat veterans had, being able to tell weapons apart. Japanese Arisakas versus M-1 Garands, Nambu machine guns versus our Brownings. I was even starting to be able to know when the artillery was outgoing or incoming.

"Someone's taking a hell of a beating," Lanky muttered, again thinking the same thing as myself.

Nelson looked up at him, his face just visible in the soft glow of fires along the beach and ahead. Flames danced in the reflection of his eyes, making the man seem very dangerous, scary. Which, I guess, he was pretty normally.

"It's K Company. They've made it onto the Point. The Nips are probably trying to hit them with everything they've got. Knock 'em off the Point. If they could gain control, they'd be able to wreak havoc on the beach again."