1945 (39 page)

Monck agreed silently with Redwald's assessment. Neither officer would speak of another fact, that having a Medal of Honor winner under their command would mean an honor to the unit and some would rub off on Wills's superiors all the way up the chain of command.

"You gonna approve it, General?" Redwald asked hopefully.

"I don't know." Monck wasn't going to recommend something he didn't believe in. "Wills's going to get something, but I don't know just what. You know as well as I do that it might get knocked down to a Distinguished Service Cross or a Silver Star before the whole process is over. Both of them are high honors, but neither one is the Medal. Parker, what do you think?"

Parker ignored the talk and looked instead at the surrounding desolation. The area they were driving through had been heavily fought over, and a multitude of shell craters made the terrain look like a moonscape. At least the dead had been picked up. American graves registration had interred U.S. dead in temporary cemeteries, while Japanese dead had been buried in mass graves or plowed over where they'd fallen.

As on most of occupied Kyushu, no Japanese civilians were around, which was prudent on their part. Even civilians stood a good chance of being shot on sight. There had been enough suicide attacks on the part of old men, women, and even children to justify the quick response by the GIs. The few Japanese who did remain on southern Kyushu were housed in camps.

"Personally," Parker finally answered, "I'm glad I don't have to make that decision."

Monck grinned. "Thanks for your help."

"What's really important," Parker continued, "is why the shiny major in the front seat hasn't been shot at by the Japs. I mean, he is so clean he glistens."

Redwald laughed. The teasing was old hat. "Just trying to set an example for my men."

The jeep lurched through a large shell hole in the dirt road, then made a wide turn to avoid another one. They were less than a mile behind the slowly advancing front lines and traveling conditions were primitive at best. What few roads there were had been chewed up by the war. In many areas, supplies had to be hand-hauled up to the front, which further slowed the regiment's advance.

The situation was the same for the rest of the invasion force. Requests for mules had gone out and would be filled. Mules had been used with considerable success in Italy and in other rugged areas, but the need for them had not been anticipated in Kyushu, which was becoming more and more reminiscent of a World War I battlefield instead of a modern World War II killing ground.

In Monck's opinion, the lack of mules was just another after-the-fact screwup. A great big book would someday be written about what could have been done better in Kyushu. By that time, of course, it would be too late for the participants.

The jeep came to a virtual stop as they inched their way past a large pile of loose rubble. Suddenly the pile exploded and a demonic screech filled the air. Monck was paralyzed by the apparition that emerged through the dirt and dust. It was a Japanese soldier, his mouth wide with his scream, and a samurai sword gripped with both hands. With incredible quickness, he brought it up from his waist to over his head and swung it expertly.

With a near-silent swish it sliced off Redwald's head, sending it flying through the air to land on the ground with a dull thud. He swung again. Monck threw himself out of the jeep and the blade clanged against the metal side of the vehicle. Parker had scrambled out the other side, but the driver was trapped and had started to scream. Monck fumbled for his pistol, pointed it at the Jap, and pulled the trigger. Nothing. He had forgotten to remove the safety.

The Japanese soldier again shrieked his fury and the sound was recognizable as "Banzai." Just as he was about to kill the driver, one of the guards from the rear jeep ran up, jammed a Thompson submachine gun into the Jap's chest, and fired a burst that shredded their attacker's torso. He howled and fell backward. The GI stood over him and fired another burst, which further pulverized his body, sending flesh and bone spraying through the air.

Monck checked the driver, who was shaken and sobbing but otherwise okay. Parker was on his feet and unhurt, although almost equally shocked. The blood on Monck's uniform had come from Redwald's headless body, which still sat primly in the front seat beside the driver, who had begun vomiting over the other side.

Good idea, Monck thought. His own stomach was heaving at the grisly sight. He looked over to where Redwald's head lay faceup. Incredibly, it looked as if he was smiling.

"Parker," Monck gasped, "what the hell just happened? I thought this place was safe?"

Colonel Parker lit a cigarette with trembling hands. "Ain't nothing safe on this island, General. I think that was one of what our boys're calling spider men. Those are suicide soldiers who dig into the ground and cover themselves up. Then they wait until the fighting has passed by and attack targets of opportunity like one of those trap-door spiders back home in Arizona." He took a deep drag and it seemed to steady him. "Y'know, I think he went after Redwald and not you or me because Redwald looked more like a senior officer than we do."

"Helluva price to pay for clean living," Monck muttered, but he agreed with Parker's assessment. Redwald was dead and they were not because Redwald looked the part of an officer more than they did.

Monck's guards had finished searching the dead Jap's body. They were eager to drag the corpse out of sight so they could see if he had any gold fillings. It was a despicable habit, but if the frontline troops didn't get a crack at the fillings, then some rear-echelon jerk would pry them out. Monck tolerated pulling gold fillings, but drew the line at cutting off ears or penises and drying them for use as an obscene necklace.

According to the dead Jap's papers, he was an officer and about forty years old. In that case, Monck wondered, where the hell were the rest of the guy's troops? Maybe they were all dead and he was the last of the Mohicans and determined to join them. If so, he'd just got his wish.

Gen. Omar Bradley ducked his head as he and Eichelberger entered the dugout headquarters of the U.S. Sixth Army on Kyushu. Along with the stale air and the heavy overlay of cigarette smoke, Bradley noticed the pathetic attempts at Christmas decorations. A few ribbons and some Christmas-tree balls hung on a local fir do not a holiday make, he thought ruefully. Another Christmas would be spent with American soldiers killing the enemy and dying in turn. What a lousy world it sometimes was.

In the distance, antiaircraft guns crumped into the sky, and the people in the dugout complex looked nervously at each other.

Bradley turned to General Krueger. "Should we get to a shelter?" The roof over their heads was camouflaged canvas.

Krueger looked worn-out. His eyes were dark-ringed and his face sagged. "No, at least not yet."

Bradley accepted the decision. As a result of the army and marine advances, some Japanese kamikaze attacks had shifted to ground targets. High on their list were fuel dumps and anything that looked like a supply depot. The army had lost a large amount of its fuel and ammunition reserves in the attacks.

Nor were places like Sixth Army headquarters immune. This was the reason for the highly visible and well-defended headquarters complex that was a couple of miles away and totally empty of working personnel. It had drawn Jap suicide planes the way honey draws bees, while the real headquarters, half-buried and well hidden, remained unmolested.

Bradley took a seat by the makeshift conference table. "General Marshall wishes this offensive wrapped up as soon as possible so we can concentrate on the second phase of the operation."

At sixty-four, Lt. Gen. Walter Krueger now looked eighty. He was known as a meticulous planner, an instructor, and a man who worked mightily to keep casualties down. Now he was haunted by failing in that goal.

"General Bradley," Krueger said slowly, the fatigue evident in his voice, "we're moving inland and up the island as fast as we can. If we try to push harder against Jap resistance, we'll only stack up more dead and wounded. Just like on Okinawa, it sometimes takes days to clear a cave complex on one small hill only to find another one a few hundred yards away. This is not the type of fighting that can be rushed."

Bradley stepped to a wall map that showed the line of American advance. A little more than one quarter of Kyushu was in American hands. The line of American battle symbols ran from just north of Sendai on the west coast and looped across the island to a point halfway along the east coast between Miyazaki and Nobeoka. Kagoshima and the dormant volcano that dominated the city had been taken, as had Mt. Kirishima in the middle of the island. Artificial harbors were under construction in Kagoshima and Ariake bays, while more than a dozen small airfields were in operation.

Land areas taken included those optimistically labeled the Ariake, Miyazaki, and, on the other side of the island, the Kushikino "plains." Other areas were labeled "corridors," as if they formed an easy path to the interior of Kyushu. Plains and corridors they might have appeared on maps, and the land might actually have been more gentle than that in the interior, but it was still rugged. By moving through those alleged plains and corridors, the army and marines had been rewarded by confronting even more difficult and arduous terrain. It hardly seemed fair, Bradley thought.

"General Krueger," Bradley said, "the original plans called for us to take only the southern third of Kyushu, and I believe we have pretty much accomplished what we set out to do. Ariake Bay is ours, as is Kagoshima Bay . Our ships are using both shelters and will use them even more if only the kamikazes would stop coming over."

As if to punctuate the comment, something exploded a few miles away.

"Gentlemen, the president is under tremendous pressure to finish this war. He is under additional pressure to support British operations along the China coast in conjunction with the liberation of Hong Kong. He has committed to supporting the British with transports and landing craft in three months."

"No!" General Eichelberger blurted. "That'll mean a delay in our attack on Tokyo."

Bradley smiled grimly. "It is now almost Christmas and it is just over three months before Operation Coronet, the invasion of Tokyo, is scheduled to take place. I want that attack accelerated. Gentlemen, I want this battle on Kyushu wound down so that all our resources can be directed towards Honshu and Tokyo. I want our boys ashore on the Kanto Plain and driving towards the Imperial Palace as soon as is humanly possible. We cannot delay Coronet; therefore we must accelerate it."

"But what will I do for an army?" Eichelberger asked softly. It was a reminder to Bradley that he and the absent Hodges were scheduled to be field commanders for Coronet as Krueger was for the smaller Olympic. "Surely you don't expect to use the men now on Kyushu?"

"That's correct, I do not. Along with their presence being needed here, they are far too worn-out for further offensive operations. No, they are to stay here."

"Thank God," said Krueger, who could finally see an end to his horrors. "But Bob's right. What will he use for an army? The invasion of Honshu will use an additional fourteen divisions in the initial phase alone. Half those boys are either en route or not even formed up."

Bradley smiled tightly. "Then we'll use the half we got. Gentlemen, I've been coordinating with Nimitz and the Pentagon on the status of the Japanese army defending Tokyo. What had once been estimated at eighteen infantry and two armored divisions has been reduced to less than half that, and many of those remaining soldiers are nothing but untrained warm bodies in uniforms. They are recent conscripts who've had no training whatsoever and don't possess much in the way of weapons. Our air force has been pounding anything they see, so there has to be further erosion in their ability to fight.

"Bob, Walt, I don't think the Japs have anything left near Tokyo to fight with. I agree with intelligence estimates that there will be little resistance to an invasion of Honshu."

Bradley saw the disbelief on their faces. They'd heard much the same thing from MacArthur earlier in the year, and it had proven horribly, tragically wrong. But Bradley also saw a glimmer of hope that this would end the terrible fighting. This was information that had come from several sources, and not just MacArthur's pet intelligence coordinators who had been deemed infallible by their late commander.

Bradley moved away from the map. "The battle lines are almost static and we are playing into their hands. The harder we push against their defenses, the more men we lose. This battle for Kyushu is nothing more than a rehash of Verdun in the last war, or Stalingrad in this one, where one side tried to make the other side bleed itself to death. We can't continue fighting and losing men at this rate."

"All right," admitted Eichelberger. "We can't. So what's Walt to do while Hodges and I try to pull an army out of thin air?"

"First of all, Bob," Bradley said, "your army isn't coming out of the air. It'll be coming from the Philippines, California, Hawaii, and Europe. It'll be close, but I'll guarantee you at least two marine and ten army divisions, along with at least one armored brigade, for the invasion."

Eichelberger nodded. "If you're right about the state of the Jap army, it'll do. In fact, it'll more than do."

Bradley turned to Krueger. "Walt, you may have the most difficult part. Any reinforcements and replacements not already landed here are now going to go to Bob. You'll have to make do with what you have."

Krueger shrugged. "I kinda guessed as much. If it'll help end this thing, I'm game. As if I had a choice." He grinned for the first time.

"Good," said Bradley. "One thing I am very afraid of is a major Jap counterattack. If they detect that we've slowed down and eased off on the pressure, I'm convinced they'll try one. I want you to keep up a minimum level of pressure to keep their attention focused on Kyushu."