Jurassic War

Six

Dawson caught up with the rest of his unit and took point for his rifle team. They hadn’t incurred enemy resistance, but he hustled to assemble with the rest of their company. A shot fired on such a small island could be heard everywhere.

The entire Japanese garrison would soon be upon them.

When piloting their boat toward shore, Mudhole had advanced past the flotilla and steered left, where the unit encountered smaller breakers. They had crested a large wave and shot toward a patch of coastline near the lagoon. Now, the unit double-timed to the assembly area, and Dawson gleaned the havoc experienced by the rest of the landing party.

Several rubber assault boats were capsized and battering the shore. Raiders were doused in saltwater and rain as they scrambled onto the beach, collecting weapons and equipment. Others bobbed in the surf, fighting the riptide and pounding waves, and struggling to swim while weighed down with war-belts and weapons.

Approaching the catastrophe, Dawson spied a Boys anti-tank rifle washed up on shore. The thirty-five-pound weapon fired a .55 caliber round, capable of penetrating the armor-plating on a tank. He snagged hold of the barrel and hoisted the weapon onto shore beyond the reach of encroaching foamy surges. Then, he slung his rifle over a shoulder and waded into the water, grabbing hold of a marine struggling to right himself, coughing up lungs full of seawater.

Members of his unit pulled boats from the surf, and they helped get the afflicted onto the beachhead. He assisted the waterlogged marine onto shore and turned him over on his side. The young trooper coughed up seawater and gasped for breath, waving Dawson off, indicating he was fine.

Dawson plunged back into the surf and hauled another marine onto the beach.

Rubber boats plied through the breakers toward shore. The small Evinrude engines could not power through the steep waves. Marines had pulled out paddles and rowed up the breakers, then shot toward the beach, some flipping over, and others propelled onto shore. Dawson continued toting stragglers onto the landing zone.

Private First Class Miller led his fire team into the water, extracting marines and boats from the crashing waves. He was from Ohio and had run an auto repair shop before the war broke out. A little older than the others, he moved around the beach sure-footed and confident. Jenkins and Knight followed his lead without protest. Further down the beachhead, Private First Class Wells barked at Privates Mudhole and Anderson to pick up the pace. He stood on the edge of the water, waiting for his team members to get a boat on shore. Like Bishop in Dawson’s squad, Wells was not an able swimmer and seemed to be avoiding the water. He grew up in the piedmont area of North Carolina. Dawson had tremendous respect for the quiet man, who usually led by example. But when the time came for his marines to act, he wasn’t bashful about asserting himself. A drive to get the job done right surpassed any diffidence in his nature.

When the last of the boats hit shore, Dawson trucked across the beach, spotting his unit hunkered down near the command post. His rifle team stood out. They had opted not to don the burlap scraps of material on their helmets. Now, the round outlines of their steel pots appeared distinct in the night. He regretted merely smearing the green helmets with black dye. They stood out like a sore thumb, while the others blended with the foliage surrounding the landing zone.

“What’s the status?” Dawson said to Williams.

The staff sergeant shook his head. “Still waiting for the brass to tell us.”

“No sign of enemy troop activity?” Dawson was shocked at the lack of resistance.

“None yet. But that accidental discharge will have them on us soon.”

Dawson stared through the drizzle, uncertain whether he should speak. Even with the rain letting up, he remained soaked to the bone and uncomfortable. He wasn’t prepared to accept what he’d seen, never mind report it. Miller and Wells stood beside him, expectant like Williams.

“What is it?” Williams pressed.

“The shot wasn’t an accidental discharge.”

“Was it you?” Williams shifted closer. “Did you engage the enemy?”

“An animal of some sort bit Knight.”

Williams glanced around. His eyes locked on the young marine. “Is this true?”

Knight nodded and pointed to the dressing on his upper arm.

“What kind of animal did something like that on this tiny island?” Williams looked them over in disbelief. Not appearing to doubt their veracity, but more a reflection of the unknown conditions on the uncharted island.

Knight shrugged. “Some kind of angry lizard.”

“A lizard?” Staff Sergeant Williams looked bewildered.

“Maybe we landed close to its nest, or something,” Dawson offered.

Williams shook his head. “Command is going to ask for a casualty report… and I’m going to have to tell them about a vicious lizard.”

Afraid so, Dawson thought. He knew better than to speak further.

Then, Williams bustled over the sand toward the command post. A tight circle of officers had formed in the center of the landing party. Dawson heard murmurs from the brass, but he couldn’t discern anything specific.

Lieutenant Colonel Carson occasionally pointed toward the tree line. He clearly wanted the Raiders to penetrate the jungle and dismantle the Japanese garrison. They’d left with orders to defeat the enemy stationed on the island and destroy the infrastructure. Raiders went through vigorous training after being selected, including long forced marches, hand-to-hand combat training, knife fighting, and demolitions instruction.

Dawson grew tired of waiting. He wanted to engage the enemy and be done with it. The operation was planned to last less than two days. It would be a hit and destroy mission.

A moment later, Wilson returned with the news. “We’re going to sit tight a little longer. Some scouts will venture into the jungle, then Able Company will enter the interior, seeking out the enemy while on patrol to destroy structures and munitions dumps.”

“What about us?” Dawson didn’t like being pinned down on the open beachhead.

“Looks like Bravo Company will serve as a force in reserves. We’ll wait it out on the beach for a while, then maybe trail after Able Company.”

“Seems like Captain Roosevelt’s company will get all the action.” This from Private Bishop, all pent-up and ready to go.

“What do you expect when serving with the president’s son?” Williams shook his head and holstered his pistol. “It will be a while, but we’ll probably move inland and likely encounter the enemy, too.”

Dawson wondered what else lurking in the dark jungle awaited them.