The Long Patrol: World War II Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’ll perform out there. You’re well trained. When in doubt fall back on your training. If everyone does their job it’ll go off without a hitch.” He gestured to Sgt. Carver who listened with his burly arms across his chest. “Sergeant, make sure the men are loaded out correctly. We kick off at 1000 hours sharp.” He looked at his watch and walked back towards his tent.
    Carver watched him go. “Okay, just like we practiced back on New Caledonia, this is a light patrol, meaning, don’t bring a lot of shit. One canteen, no food, full complement of ammo, your K-bar, a basic loadout. I want each man carrying at least two grenades. Morgan bring the BAR, the rest of you your rifles. Clear?” There was a smattering of nods and ‘Yes Sarge’. “Clear?” he yelled it this time.
    “Yes, Sergeant,” came the chorus.
    “Meet back here at 0945 looking sharp.”
    The squads broke up heading to the makeshift armory to fill ammo pouches with clips and grenades. As O'Connor filled his bag he thought he’d throw up. He wondered if anyone else was nervous. He looked around at the young faces, none of them seemed scared. Some were even joking around. An M1 clip fell from his hand and landed in the dirt. He bent to pick it up, but Private First Class Morgan said in his deep voice, “Don’t pack that one unless you plan to unload it and clean each bullet. You don’t want your M1 jamming when you need it most.”
    O'Connor nodded and placed it away from the pile. He didn’t tell him he’d undoubtedly shot more than Morgan. Morgan watched him fumble another one. He put his hand on his shoulder. “Relax Red. Believe me the jitters will go away as soon as we step off into the jungle.”
    O'Connor nodded, “You’ve been in combat?”
    “Nothing like the Marines here, but I was a cop before. Doubt it’s much different.” He smiled, “At least out here you know who the enemy is.” He paused and stopped pulling ammo. “When the shit hits the fan your training takes over. Kinda go into auto-pilot.”
    O'Connor nodded. That’s what everyone always said ‘Remember your training,’ but he didn’t feel his training was all that good. He’d spent his life living in the woods living off the land. His parents never had real jobs, they lived meal to meal, tending gardens and shooting game. His little sister knew more about stealth and staying alive in the wilds than any of these yahoos and she was ten years old. All they showed him in boot camp and subsequent training was how to use different weapons and how to follow orders from someone who’d likely get him killed.
    For the first time he realized he wasn’t nervous about facing the Japs, he was nervous about facing the Japs with a bunch of city slickers. He looked around the group, the only man he thought he could rely on was Sgt. Carver and maybe Pvt. Crandall. Crandall had been a trapeze artist or some such thing and seemed like all the traveling around from town to town had hardened him more than the others. Dunphy was probably a good boxer but he was sure he’d become totally useless when the bullets started flying. He’d never worked a day in his life.
    He finished gathering his kit, looked at his watch and went to the rally point waiting for 0945 to come. The day was sweltering, he’d already soaked through both his undershirt and his blouse top. He had a couple minutes so he laid out his tarp and stripped his M1 Garand. His M1 was the one thing he loved about the Army. He’d shot a lot of rifles, but nothing felt as smooth and comfortable as the M1. He’d qualified expert without even having to try. He caressed each piece inspecting it for any dirt then put it back together marveling at how perfectly everything fit into place.
    At 0945 everyone was standing with their weapons slung. Sdrgeant Carver stood next to Lt. Caprielli. “The sergeant will put you in battle order. Our orders are to probe and find the enemy line. Once we do, we break contact and get