The Long Patrol: World War II Novel by Chris Glatte Read Free Book Online

it into the ground, “Fucking Japs.”
    Another soldier slid in next to O'Connor. He had a red cross on his arm. He dropped his rifle and looked at his wounds. “How you doing, Pal? Glad you’re awake; that’s a good sign.” He poked and prodded, “Think you had a concussion too, along with your burns. Both will heal with time. We’re not able to get you to a hospital ship. Not sure you’d be safe anyway, the Jap navy seems to have taken up residence. You just need a day or two, then you’ll be ready for duty. We’ll get you to the rear for a couple days, just waiting for a jeep…okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but sprinted off to check on more men.
    O'Connor nodded, “Doc sure has a lot to say.”
    It wasn’t long before a jeep pulled up and Dunphy and the driver were lifting him onto the hood.
    The ride to the rear was short and painful. The driver and a medic lifted him off the hood and helped him to a cot. The other wounded men were far worse off than he was; he felt he didn’t belong there. Men were covered with seeping bandages, most unconscious. His wounds paled in comparison. He was embarrassed. He decided he’d take the first opportunity to rejoin his unit. He was taking the medic’s time away from these men who needed the care more than he did. He decided he’d just take a nap then slip back to his unit.
    ***
    Dunphy was back in his hole. Their patrol had run into the Japanese line far closer than they’d expected; only a couple hundred yards. The thick jungle made the distance seem farther. The Japanese would have as much trouble traveling through as the soldiers, but they’d gotten far closer than expected. Command thought they’d be hit any time. They’d put outposts to the edge of the jungle as an early warning system. Everyone was on edge. With O'Connor at the aid station, Dunphy was alone and as much as he loathed the hayseed, he’d rather have him beside him. The kid could shoot. He dropped those two Japs with three shots .
    He was thinking about his predicament when the first mortars started raining down. At first he thought it was another artillery strike, but someone yelled “Mortars, take cover.” He hunkered down as the line of explosions worked their way toward his position. It was like an advancing hail storm, coming at him with purpose. He cringed with every impact. He looked up at the logs over his head. Would they stop a direct hit ? Would he survive such a thing ? He doubted it would end well.
    There were some close impacts, but soon the mortars passed his hole. He heard desperate calls for medics. At least one soldier had been hit. He wondered who. He heard the L-T call to Sgt. Carver to get the OPs in. Dunphy knew what that meant; a Jap attack. He gripped his rifle and took deep breaths. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He thought about how his boxing coach prepared him for matches. Control the breathing, picture the fight, picture winning the fight, beating the opponent to hamburger. He pictured the soldiers O'Connor had shot, then pictured himself pulling the trigger.
    There was an eerie silence when the mortars stopped dropping. Maybe that was it, maybe it was just more harassment and they wouldn’t attack . The silence was broken as the engines of multiple fighters from the airfield were cranked. They were getting airborne, never a good sign.
    Dunphy peeked over the hole towards the jungle. He saw the last of the OP sprinting back to their original holes. He poked his head higher and called to one, he thought it was Crandall, “Hey, hey Crandall. What’d you see out there?”
    Crandall didn’t look at him but slid into his hole fifteen yards to his right. He popped up, “They’re coming, right on our ass. The whole Jap army.”
    Now their own mortars were firing. The outgoing sounded good. The explosions lit up the jungle. The mortar crews were walking their shots back, giving the Japs their own medicine. Dunphy had his rifle out and