Essay on a whim 2

SLAUGHTER

The crickets chirped incessantly as the cold and hungry marines patrolled the dark, barren outskirts of the Tobiishi point, near the imposing facade of mount buriachi. Just hours ago they had set foot on the humid island, carrying backpacks full of ammunition and food in preparation for the next offensive push towards the northern part of the island, where according to previous reconnaissance by the air force , revealed numerous defensive entrenchments built by the near-invincible Japanese imperial army.

The inky darkness that covered the barren fields would be a perfect camouflage for any banzai attacks, the battle-weary soldiers reasoned, so they were clever enough to put pre-warning booby traps comprised of metal cans and other junk that would clatter loud enough to warn of an impending attack. Other than that , they had set up a fortress made out of rice sacks filled with sand, which was an effective barrier against any bullet that came zipping towards it. Machine guns were set up along the lines of sand bags , muzzles pointed at the barren landscape that surrounded their current headquarters.

The soldiers nervously gripped their gun stock , eyes peeled wide open despite their exhaustions from the exertions during dawn. Banzai attacks were notorious for being bloody , a bloodbath that was deadly enough to exterminate an entire platoon within seconds of contact.

Just before the soldiers were about to change sentry duties, a soft ‘clang’ was heard.

Immediately the entire base was roused from their sleep and there was a frantic rush to get to their battlestations.

True enough, a Banzai was on its way.

Before all the Marines could get their firearms pointed at the impending attack, a whole volley of shouts broke the silence of the night . Clearly inaudible words came streaming out of the attackers’ mouths as they held their gleaming swords while giving a suicidal run towards their enemy- as ordered by their highly-respected commanders.

“Banzai!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Muzzle flashes started to light up the darkness as the marines emptied entire magazines filled with lethal live rounds in the direction of the attack. Immediately groans of pain could be heard from the fallen attackers as one after another fell as bullets ripped through their bodies. Machine gun fire kicked up dust from the ground as their operators maneuvered the streams of bullets in a sweeping motion at the attackers .Cartridge after cartridge dropped onto the floor as each bullet was fired towards its target

Even with the hail of bullets being showered on them, some of the surviving enemy managed to get to the sandbag wall , only to receive a face full of hot lead as the dutiful trenchgunners fired their loud and powerful weapons.

Belt after belt, clip after clip, the soldiers furiously emptied whatever ammunition they had at the enemy. One marine , in desperation , threw a bottle of kerosene at the attacking foes , then with almost miraculous aim, shattered and ignited it with one shot of a trenchgun. The resultant fire storm scalded the incoming attackers, causing small fires to start on their uniforms. These fires in turn caused the defending marines to notice them and move their focus on the small orange flames , which acted like a “I’M HERE!” sign. Those that caught the flames, not surprisingly, were gunned down quickly.

After 1 hour of constant gunfire, the banzai attack was finally suppressed. A coppery smell hung in the now silent fields , serving as a stark reminder of the cruelties of the war. Blood could be seen almost everywhere, on the sandbags , on the ground, even the marines had some blood on them..

And this blood, even after countless showers, will stay with them forever.