The Old Breed

Chapter 27

Hill 160, Peleliu

September 17th, 1944

The coral exploded by our heads, the bullets coming so close that it was a miracle I hadn't been hit yet. I tried to duck down deeper into the coral, nowhere to go, the coral immoving, evil. I looked to my side, the kid doing the same as me, his nose pressed into the coral, his eyes closed, sweat dripping down his forehead. We were only a few yards up from the cave, the fire too heavy, forcing us down, a big coral rock the only cover, barely wide enough for the two of us to hide behind, part of my shoulder exposed, horrifying images of my shoulder being torn apart flashing through my mind. Mortars were dropping ever so often around us, heavy machine gun fire and small-arms creating a roar, that tank and the heavy artillery added to it with their own explosions.

"What's your unit, kid?" I shouted over the din, the kid opening his eyes, leaning his head slightly to get a better look at me.

"It's Cook! Daniel Cook!" he yelled back. "I'm a mess private!"

I turned to him. "Your name's Cook and you're a cook?"

For a second the war seemed to fade into the distance and I couldn't help laughing. The kid seemed to relax slightly too, smiled too, his mouth partially hidden under the coral he was still digging into.

"Yeah, I guess you can put it that way," he said with a small laugh.

I turned serious again, said, "Who the hell sent you here? How much combat training you have?"

He looked squeamish. "I haven't fired a weapon since basic. I cook meals, not kill Japs."

I shook my head. "Christ. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Puller sent us. You guys needed help!"

I looked around, saw other Marines laying down or hunkering along the hillside, fire overhead, men crawling forward. A few men tried their luck getting up and running, some making a good few yards up the hill, others hit before they could even move. I could see a few lumps scattered around, bodies, other men writhing around, screaming, wounded.

"You shouldn't be here kid, it's not safe!" I said. It was probably the biggest understatement of the year.

He just looked at me and laughed. "All we have to do is make it to the top?" he said, turning serious.

I looked back at him dumbfounded. "Jesus, kid, you make it sound easy."

Another mortar exploded nearby. Cook went back to burying his face in the coral. There were shrieks now, shrill, shells zooming in overhead, exploding a few dozens of yards overhead.

"Jesus Christ!" Cook cried.

I put an arm over his shoulders, pressed him farther down.

"Keep your head down! It's ours, but it'll kill you just as fast as the Nips'!"

He cursed.

The shells were our close infantry support from the howitzers, likely dug in barely a few ridges back, knowing the nature of this hellhole. I bet it was pure hell trying to drag those guns up this terrain. The shells were coming in too close for comfort, barely dozens of yards ahead. A stray shell coming down early could kill a good group of us, barely any cover for us, unlike the fortifications of the Japs. Whatever we had laid down behind was all we had. By God, hopefully it was enough.

As they stammered out however, a low quiet hung over the hill eerily. It only lasted as long as the Japs needed to get their wits back to them. Barely seconds after the last shell had fallen that a Nambu started up again. But there was no chance to stay in cover anymore. The orders were to take this hill. We couldn't take it hunkering down.