The Long Patrol: World War II Novel Read Free

into a normal unit. He didn’t think his parents would allow that to happen, but it did. His parents made sure he went into a regular unit to teach their spoiled son a lesson.
    He may have been a private, but he thought of himself as a general and let everyone know his disdain for their lower class. He also let it be known that he was a champion boxer and could best any man that cared to try. A few had and he’d been true to his boast. He was light on his feet and his jabs were lightning fast and powerful.
    The platoon knew that eventually Carver and Dunphy would come to blows. They were split 50/50 in the betting pool. Carver had the brawn and the street fighting experience, Dunphy had the benefit of professional training.
    Sergeant Carver wanted to take Private Dunphy down a notch, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to get squared away. He pointed, “Move further west until you find a less shitty spot and clear it out.” He turned back to Dunphy and yelled, “Now!” Dunphy leaned back, the force of Carver’s voice startling him. He turned and with the others put his wet top on and moved away from the latrine area.
    Sergeant Carver looked to the Marines who were still laughing. He walked to them and was confronted by another Sergeant, his counterpart. Sergeant Carver pointed, “Why’re you shitting in the boonies, why don’t you have proper latrines?”
    The Marine gunnery sergeant smiled showing brown, tobacco stained teeth, “The Japs blew ‘em up couple nights ago. They come by almost every night, drop their bombs and skedaddle.”
    Carver put his hands on his waist, “Well shit.” The gunny nodded agreeing with his sentiment.
    There was yelling from the beach, “Sergeant Carver.” He turned and saw his commanding officer tromping up the beach from a just beached landing craft. Carver looked at the Marine, “Don’t ask me why he wasn’t in the first wave with his troopers.” The gunny spit out a long stream of black tobacco juice and made himself scarce.
    As Lieutenant Caprielli trudged towards him, Sgt. Carver stiffened, but didn’t salute. Caprielli looked him up and down, “It’s protocol to salute your commanding officer, Sergeant.”
    Carver snapped off a crisp salute, “Sorry, Sir. It’s common for Jap snipers to shoot officers. They figure out who’s who by seeing who gets saluted.”
    Caprielli cringed and pulled Carver’s hand down. He looked around wondering where the shot would come from. He pulled Carver behind an idling jeep and crouched pulling Carver with him. He pointed to the landing crafts beaching and dropping their front gates. “Our supplies are on those boats. Have the men start offloading them to that spot there.” He pointed to the same spot the Marines were using as a latrine.
    Carver said, “I’ve got the men clearing an area out over there,” he pointed, “the spot you’re looking at is a latrine.”
    Caprielli nodded, “Well, okay, the other spot looks fine, but get the men moving, we’re sitting ducks on this beach.”
    Carver stood up, “Yes Sir. Don’t we have tractors or something to help with the offload?”
    Caprielli shook his head, “No, there’s only a couple of jeeps. This beach isn’t big enough to build harbor facilities. The men will just have to grunt it out.”
    “Yessir.” Carver went to tell the men the good news and Lieutenant Caprielli got in his jeep and trundled away along the beach. Carver had no idea where he was going.
    ***
    Hours later the equipment and supplies were moved to the relative safety of the sparse jungle. O'Connor sat on a box of rations and pulled heavily on a cigarette. He had his shirt off, as did the entire company. He was dripping with sweat. The heavy labor had taken its toll. He felt like his limbs were made of concrete and the heavy air made his lungs feel like they were pulling oxygen through taffy.
    He looked around at the others, they looked as haggard as he felt. His red hair was darkened with