The Old Breed

Chapter 43

Machinato, Okinawa

April 30th, 1945

The rest of April went by relatively slowly and uneventfully. We spent days marching and patrolling, to the point where I couldn't believe that they were any areas still untouched. We, the whole 1st Marine Division, patrolled middle Okinawan so thoroughly we probably knew more about Okinawa than the native Okies did. On April 14th, a day after we found out about Roosevelt, Martinez came down with a serious case of jungle rot to the point where he could not move his feet at all it was so painful, and was evacuated out to a hospital ship off the beaches of Hagushi, where we had originally landed. We had been afraid that his feet might have to be amputated it was so bad, but he kept in touch with us through letters, and said they weren't being amputated, but he was resting. Two weeks later, none other than Martinez shows back up at our bivouac, smiles, a few bandages poking from out his leggings. We couldn't believe he'd come back, choose the tough and rough of marching and unloading of supplies. He told us he'd annoyed the docs there about getting back to his unit so much that they were happy to dump him back onto shore. I might not have agreed with his statements about wanting to be in the fight that had come along with his other words, but I respected a man who was willing to do anything to stay with his brothers. After a month, the six guys were not new anymore, some getting nicknames, all accepted as members of our squad. Jackson had already been known as Tex, Martinez becoming "Bootlegger", after what his parents had done during the Prohibition. Some of the new guys had wanted to call Kuhr Professor because he was smart, but the veterans had shot that down instantly. There would only be one Professor, and he was already gone. The nickname Einstein was chosen.

We kept close tabs on what was happening around us during that month of April. We learned of the 6th Marine Division's battle for the Motobu peninsula, and on April 20th, them reaching the northern tip of Okinawa. They took a little under one thousand casualties doing so. The first Marines to join the fight down south had been the 11th Marines, the 1st Marine Division's artillery regiment, moving down with the Army in mid-April. On April 19th, we heard about a disastrous attack the Army had made upon a ridge called Kakazu Ridge. A column of thirty tanks had tried to flank the position, but got separated from their infantry protection, and were cut off. Eight of the tanks made it back. Eight. Out of thirty. Because of this, Lieutenant General Simon Buckner, commander of the Tenth Army, ordered the III Amphibious Corps commander, Major General Roy Geiger, to send down the 1st Marine Tank Battalion to support the 27th Infantry Division. Geiger hadn't like this, didn't want to send parts of his Division away. And so, in late April, we received the orders that we had all expected, but none of us wanted at all. Buckner changed his orders. Instead of Geiger sending down the 1st Marine Tank Battalion, the whole Division was being sent to relieve the 27th Infantry Division. All of the Marines who wanted action were now going to get it.

We were finally heading south.

"Sergeant, you got everything? All the men accounted for?"

Sergeant Nelson looked back at us one more time, studied each of us already sitting and staring back at him. He studied the faces, the men of 1st Squad, the faces of Sergeant McCorkle and the platoon demolitions corporal. I wondered if he was wondering how many of us would come back, how many of us would ever know peace again. I suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze, shifted my weight. The wooden bench under my butt was unmerciful, and within five minutes, I was already sore and grumpy. I leaned back, felt the canvas molding around my form. I looked around the truck. We were in an olive drab deuce and a half. The cab held two crewmen and the back of the truck could hold sixteen. There were fourteen of us, twelve from 1st Squad and two from the headquarters section of our platoon in the back. Sergeant Nelson, McCorkle, and the corporal were up in the front, right behind the cab, while I ended up as one of the guys on the back edge.