The Rat Bastards #3 by Len Levinson

Author:Len Levinson [Levinson, Len]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: War, WW2 fiction, Graham Hurley, Mark Sullivan, US Army, Japanese Army
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2024-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“It’s Sergeant Butsko, sir.”

Captain Franklin snatched the headset from his runner’s hands and held it against the side of his face. “Where the hell have you been?” he shouted.

“I’m just calling to report, sir, that the recon platoon is in grid one-oh-two and that the jungle should be pretty clear between us and you, so why don’t you come on up here?”

“Where did you say you were?” Franklin asked incredulously.

“Grid one-oh-two.”

Captain Franklin looked at his map. He was kneeling behind a tree as his company cautiously probed the jungle ahead of him. “Grid one-oh-two?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s where you are?”

“Yes, sir, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on with just the recon platoon. The Japs’ll start fighting back sooner or later, and the more ground we get now, the better.”

“Are you sure you’re in grid one-oh-two?”

“Yes, sir. Completely sure, sir. There can be no doubt about it. And the jungle’s pretty cleared out behind us.”

“I see,” said Captain Franklin. “Well, we’ll be up there as soon as we can. Over and out.”

Captain Franklin handed the headset to his runner and looked at the map again. Butsko had made a huge advance relative to Baker Company and had made Captain Franklin look bad. Now Captain Franklin hated Butsko more than ever.

Captain Franklin called the commanding officers of Able and Charlie companies and told them he was moving forward to grid 102 and that they should cover his flanks. Then he called his platoons and told them to move out on the double to grid 102.

While Captain Franklin and Baker Company were running through the jungle, the recon platoon was having lunch under a mild mortar bombardment. In every hole one man ate K rations while the other man fired his weapon into the jungle ahead.

“I got him!” yelled Plotnik, his big smile showing teeth as green as jade.

“Good for you,” Bannon muttered, chewing on the big dry cracker.

“Shit, man,” Plotnik said, aiming his rifle again, “I shoulda never gone into the motor pool. I shoulda gone into the infantry. This is the real Army. All the other stuff is bullshit.”

Bannon nodded as he chewed his cracker, surprised by the transformation that had come over Plotnik, who was becoming a little kill-crazy. Plotnik squeezed his trigger and his M1 fired. He squeezed it again, his rifle barrel kicking into the air. A bullet ricocheted off the top of the hole a few feet from his head, and he ducked down.

“You’re drawing fire,” Bannon said.

“I don’t give a shit.”

Plotnik raised his head again, aimed his rifle, and took a quick shot. He ducked quickly as a bullet whistled through the air in the vicinity of where his head had been.

“You’d better stay down awhile,” Bannon said. “They got your number.”

“Fuck ’em,” Plotnik said.

“No, I mean it. You raise your head again and they’ll put a hole in it.”

“Shit, I ain’t afraid.”

“Lemme show you.”

Bannon took off his helmet, put it on the end of his rifle, and raised it in the air.

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