Tark's Ticks: A WWII Novel by Chris Glatte

Author:Chris Glatte [Glatte, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-18T22:00:00+00:00

Private Hisoko cowered in his spiderhole as the enemy force passed over his head, praying no one stepped directly on his cover. He kept still, all his senses tuned to the passing soldiers. He clutched his one grenade, ready to arm and throw it at the first hint of discovery. On his hip, was his only other weapon, his long bayonet knife. He released his breath when he realized he didn’t hear any more soldiers and he immediately started counting.

So far, Lieutenant Miro’s plan was working perfectly. He’d sent Hisoko and five other soldiers across the river, giving them time before he pressed his own attack up the hill. He gave them two hours to cross the shallow Tuol river and dig their spiderholes, then he attacked.

As Miro predicted, they sent a force from the plateau. That force had just passed over his head and once his count reached five thousand, he and his five comrades would crawl from their holes and attack with knives and grenades. Hisoko knew this would be his last mission. Their intent wasn’t to destroy the enemy force, but to drive fear into their hearts, and none of them expected to survive.

Approximately an hour and fifteen minutes later, with his count complete, he slowly pushed the cover back, and slithered from the hole. It was dark, but lighter than the inside of the hole, and he could see surprisingly well with the additional light from the stars. He didn’t move as he took in the surroundings. He could hear the gentle flow of the river as it licked the banks. He strained to hear or see any sign of the enemy. He wondered if he’d be killing Americans or Filipinos.

A sound of metal caught his attention and he adjusted his gaze turning toward the sound, but not looking directly at it, relying on his peripheral vision. He was thirty yards from the river. Judging by the sound, the enemy was dug-in right beside the riverbank. He centered himself, taking a deep breath and letting it filter out slowly, exhaling the fear and soreness from his body.

He touched the grenade to make sure it was still there, then slowly pulled the knife and gripped it tightly. He looked to either side, searching for his comrades but knew he wouldn’t see them.

He made his first move forward, barely making a sound. He felt his heart rate increase and he struggled to keep his breathing in check. His plan was to move forward until he saw a target, then use the knife and kill silently if possible, without raising the alarm. If he was seen before that, he’d hurl the grenade and follow it with a slashing knife charge. Lt. Miro had been explicit in his instructions, they must use grenades so he’d know if there were, in fact, enemies on the river bank.

Agonizingly slowly, he pulled himself twenty yards then saw what he was looking for: enemy movement. He stilled his body, his breathing and his mind and put his entire focus on the spot.

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