The Old Breed

Chapter 64

Iwa-Shindawaku, Okinawa

June 4th, 1945

The trek towards Iwa-Shindawaku Ridge was one of the worst I had ever done. Everything seemed to be against us. The rain and wind pushed against us, making us have to crouch low and force one foot in front of the other, and the mud tried to glue us in place. You couldn't stop for fear of sinking but it was almost impossible to move forward.

Lanky was in front of me by a few yards, and he turned, reaching out a hand to me. Water poured off the lip of his helmet like a small waterfall. I caught up to him, put a hand on his shoulder, us helping each other along. The five yard rule didn't matter to us now, only moving forward. It would be impossible for observers to see us from the ridge ahead, which was still invisible behind the rain and clouds. Any mortar that landed near us would just be amazingly lucky for a Jap mortarman. But no one was firing. They were probably being smart, hunkering down enclosed in the ridge. We should have been doing the same back on our hill. Dammit, if I had known I was going to be out here like this, I would've spent another day in the hospital.

"We're not far! Five hundred yards!" Lanky yelled, barely a foot away from me, but any sound under that of shout was sucked away in the rain.

"How do you know?" I shouted back.

"I've been counting my steps!"

That was such a Lanky thing to do I almost started laughing. Not almost. I did. I could just barely hear the sound over the rain; could barely hear myself think over this shit.

My emotions were so shot from this storm that anything could set them off. If someone shot at us, I'd probably break down. If Lanky told a joke, I'd probably fall into a fit of hysterics. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, scream, or just sit down and stop everything. I wished desperately to be back in the dry hospital tent with Edward's intelligence. Why the fuck did I think this would be better?

Lanky stumbled, but I was able to keep him from face planting in the mud. He raised a knee up, bringing one of his boots out of the mud.

"Aw, fuck!"

The sole of his shoe had peeled half way off from the heel, dangling uselessly in the air now. "Damn mud!" he continued to curse.

I tugged on his sleeve, made him move forward, this being no place to stop.

Ahead, a low hum broke through the rain, faint enough that I had to strain my ears to tell if it was really there or just a figment of my imagination. God knew that my imagination could make up anything.

"You hear that?" Lanky shouted, confirming that I wasn't just crazy.

"Yeah!"

Quickly, the hum turned to a monotonous drone, and then a roar.

"What the hell...?"

We began to see men slowing down, Captain Brand at the front, stopping a good fifty yards ahead of us, holding up a hand to stop the rest of the column. Lanky and I got close to the captain, trying to figure out why he had stopped. I strained my ears to hear enemy fire, but I heard nothing but the rain and that roar. I still couldn't see the ridge ahead, and I scanned the ground ahead, took in the flat muddy plain that stretched out into the gray.

It took a second to process it, but my eyes widened as I realized the ground was moving. It was a raging torrent of a river, the water as muddy as the ground around us, making the effect of the ground moving. The water raced through the low cut in the ground, waves several feet tall overflowing the banks. Any attempt at crossing it would be futile and fatal. The water was so violent it would be able to pick up a fully laden infantryman and carry him off with ease. I didn't care what battalion said; I was not moving forward into that water.