Jurassic War

Thirty-Eight

Tanaka had positioned himself behind the scout car, using the hood for cover. He’d come upon the scene and directed his troops to form a perimeter around the garrison. Some Imperial soldiers were inside shooting from the windows. A bamboo and thatch building, the structure didn’t provide much protection from the invaders.

Marines were spread out in front of the garrison, laying down heavy fire from behind rocks and fallen trees. Japanese troops were situated all around the building, so Tanaka couldn’t observe all of them from his vantage point. Some held positions under the scout car, while others shot from windows in the garrison. Many of the Imperial forces were in prone shooting positions on the ground with little cover.

He had taken a forward location that didn’t afford him a full command of the battlefield. Jumping hastily into the fray to take up the fight, he’d made a major tactical misstep that could potentially cost him the battle.

The Americans were well equipped, firing high-caliber machineguns from various angles. Imperial infantrymen had rifles and pistols, relying heavily upon their imitation Lewis guns to repel a landing party. The hasty retreat had not allowed for set up with the deadly tripod machineguns.

A surprise attack, he wondered how a force of such magnitude had gotten through the Japanese surveillance planes.

During the battle at the beachhead, he’d estimated approximately two hundred marines. Rubber boats were pulled onto shore, but he hadn’t spied any ships in the distance. He thought back to the retreat and considered the Japanese aerial attack. Guns had blasted from the deck of a naval vessel offshore. It wasn’t a destroyer or a battleship. The silhouette appeared as a barge offshore, similar to those he’d seen performing industrial work in Tokyo bay.

Submarines, he finally muttered to himself. They surprised us by approaching underwater. A stealth attack. He wondered if the marines blasting away at them were specially trained commandos.

Thwack! A bullet struck the door of the scout car with a resounding ding.

It traveled through the vehicle, then blasted out the other door and swished into the garrison wall. A soldier screamed from inside. Someone was firing a powerful weapon at them. Tanaka knew it could cut them to shreds.

He regretted being pinned down behind the Yonki more than ever.

Tanaka preferred to be further back, with his troops spread out around him, so he could make command decisions and fortify their defense. Without the Lewis guns to thwart the attack, he didn’t think they had a chance. There hadn’t been enough time to break into the storage locker.

That’s it, he thought. The storage locker.

A ding sounded off his helmet; a bullet had ricocheted off the metal of his Kabuto, pot-shaped, steel helmet. It was a glancing blow that didn’t penetrate the protective cover.

Japanese troops had a star painted on the front for Army and an anchor for Marines serving aboard ship. His troops were stationed on the island with the Army, so their helmets bore stars. The helmets were painted khaki-brown, matching their tunics. A few soldiers were positioned about the garrison defense with tropical helmets made of cork, which didn’t provide much protection from shrapnel and bullets.

The thought of Imperial troops wearing the wrong headgear seemed to escalate the attack. A blast resounded to his right, cascading dirt and metal fragments in his direction. Bits of shrapnel pelted him, but he was far enough away, so the wounds were superficial. Hot jagged pieces of the hand grenade had torn through his uniform and burned his skin, cleaving open small cuts, while sticking to the serrated exposed meat.

He turned to Superior Private Hirano and told him to take command. Then, he ducked behind the Yonki and crawled toward the barracks. Slipping through the thatch wall, he wormed across the floor and entered the building.

A few soldiers were shooting out the windows. They had stacked footlockers beneath the windows and used them for cover due to the thin walls. Firing at the invaders, the garrison was a cacophony of firearms exploding, and the Americans shot back at them. Bullets whizzed through the thatch walls and dinged off the metal rails of the bunks.

One soldier noticed Tanaka and looked at him confused.

“Follow me!” Tanaka yelled over the din, waving to the young private.

The soldier reluctantly left his post at the window.

Running through the barracks, Tanaka moved in haste because time was essential, but he also feared getting shot by a stray bullet. The private kept pace. His uniform was clean. He was fresh and hadn’t been battling the Americans much that night, not like the soldiers who’d accompanied Tanaka to the fuel dumps.

They made their way past the lavatory and entered a closet space in the rear of the building. Boxes of munitions and weapons were stacked on the floor. Covered in dust with rusted hinges, the cache hadn’t been used in combat or even for training. The Imperial soldiers had spent most of their time on the island maintaining the infrastructure and standing post, watching for ships and complacently never expecting an invasion.

Brushing off the tops of a few boxes and crates, Tanaka found what he was looking for in the jumble of weapons. He’d located two boxes of mortar tubes and a crate of shells.

“We need another man to carry this out,” Tanaka said.

The private nodded and ran out of the storage closet. A moment later he returned with another soldier carrying his rifle at port arms. He was older than the young private and had pock marks on his round cheeks.

“Sling that over your shoulder.” Tanaka pointed to the rifle.

“Yes, sir.” And he did so.

“Grab the other ends of these two boxes,” Tanaka said, bending over and latching on to the rope handles protruding from the mortar tube crates.

The new arrival did the same at the other end, then they stood and lifted the boxes from the floor. Although the cargo wasn’t too heavy, it proved to be awkward. Tanaka was forced to walk backward as he eased from the storage room.

“You take the crate of mortar shells,” he said, nodding to the box on the floor.

The young private hiked the box off the floor and trailed after them.

A firefight erupted in front of the building; Tanaka decided to head out the back and circle around to the left side of the building. He led them over to a back exit.

Outside, he found the noise behind the building less intense. Tanaka lowered the boxes and the soldier at the other end did the same. Then he motioned for the other private to put his box down. Shaking out his hands, Tanaka briefed them on his plans.

“We’re going to pick these up, run around the left side of the building and set up a mortar line at the corner of the building.” He paused to see if they were following his explanation. “Each mortar tube has to be set for the shortest distance possible.”

“Shouldn’t we estimate the distance first?” the older soldier enquired.

“Not enough time.” Tanaka shook his head. “You set it up close, and if the shells fall short, they explode and disrupt their vision. Then you make adjustments, moving the range out slightly, until you are dropping the rounds on their heads.”

Both soldiers nodded, understanding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Tanaka reached for the crates and heaved them off the ground, then he quickly backpedaled. His counterpart followed suit. The other trotted to keep up.

Rounding the back corner of the building, they traversed the side of the building and found themselves at their destination. Tanaka dropped the boxes and crouched to retrieve a mortar tube. He set the baseplate and extended the bipod legs of the Type 90, 81-millimeter mortar. Then, he snapped on the barrel, serving as the firing tube.

The elevation tube was already in the lowest position. Checking the target, he made a slight change and felt the initial salvo might be accurate. He grabbed another mortar and repeated the actions. Then, he held out his hand, seeking a third mortar. It didn’t come.

Waving his hand, he expected the mortar to be handed off instinctively. Still, it didn’t happen.

Tanaka looked back. Both soldiers knelt by the mortar boxes, but they were motionless, as though paralyzed with fear. They stared at the tree line.

Glancing at what caught their attention, Tanaka spied yellow orbs, lined along the underbrush. Rows of dinosaurs had come to feast and stood on the edge of the jungle ready to wade into battle. They appeared like medieval warriors before a clash on an open battlefield.

Dread choked the breath out of him. Then, he felt an all too familiar tremor, resonating slightly in the distance. Another mild vibration marked a path toward the garrison.