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Coming Home
2/3
“You come back home, you hear? I love you.”
*
The trail was treacherous, the undergrowth dangerous to all those who walked across it. The small paths were littered with bodies, the bodies of the troops, the Diggers, and the bodies of the enemy, the Japs.
“They’re blocking out way, sir. There are too many of them. The Japs, they outnumber us, we’re not gonna make it,” a private panted as he ran back into the clearing where the Diggers were camped out.
“That’s not good enough, private. There has to be a way past this,” Sergeant Bruce Kingsbury looked up from the map he was studying.
“But sir…”
“No buts,” Bruce stood up and dusted his uniform trousers off, “there has to be a way. We’ll send out a rescue team. General Peterson is trapped there. I want a party going out,” his orders were clear, final. He was only young, just barely 25. But he was still the ranking officer.
*
It was a disaster. Bruce shook his head as he hid behind a large rock.
The rescue party had failed. The scout had failed to spot the extra Japs lurking up above the top of the trail, had failed to notice that the Diggers were outnumbered five to one. The rescue party was outnumbered twenty to one. They had no chance in hell.
Most of his troops were gone, mowed down by the excessive force of the Japs coming against them. Only half a dozen of his brave Diggers remained.
“What do we do, sir?” a private whispered, huddled up next to Bruce in the scrub.
“Go back, private. Go back. Take the others and get back to base, alert NT that the mission was a failure. Go back,” Bruce was once again absolute. He knew what he had to do. Bruce noticed that the private was going to argue, “that’s an order, private. Get back to base with the others immediately.”
The private nodded once and ran off.
*
It had to be done.
Bruce clipped his last magazine into his machine gun. He was going to go out and take as many of the Japs down with him as he possibly could.
Time seemed to slow down for Bruce as he burst out from behind his shelter, machine gun to his hip, firing away.
The Japs were clearly startled by his full frontal assault, and took time to respond. Time that they didn’t have as Bruce- cut them all down with his withering hail of machine gun fire.
Enemy soldiers fell and retreated as Bruce uttered a hoarse cry, his gun finally running dry.
He ducked, crouching behind a large rock, struggling to rearm himself in time to attack again.
Bruce jumped up once more, about to charge again.
“This is for you, Annabelle, my wife,”
The last thought that passed through Bruce’s mind as one bullet shot through his skull, one bullet fired from a Jap, a sniper hidden up the trail.
Bruce’s body fell to the ground, a bloody mess.
*
The plain wooden casket, loaded into the plane.
*
The grave, back home,
Sergeant Bruce Kingsbury
Born 19-11-1920
Died 15-09-1945
Loving husband;
A brave digger.
*
“You come back home, you hear? I love you.”
*
The trail was treacherous, the undergrowth dangerous to all those who walked across it. The small paths were littered with bodies, the bodies of the troops, the Diggers, and the bodies of the enemy, the Japs.
“They’re blocking out way, sir. There are too many of them. The Japs, they outnumber us, we’re not gonna make it,” a private panted as he ran back into the clearing where the Diggers were camped out.
“That’s not good enough, private. There has to be a way past this,” Sergeant Bruce Kingsbury looked up from the map he was studying.
“But sir…”
“No buts,” Bruce stood up and dusted his uniform trousers off, “there has to be a way. We’ll send out a rescue team. General Peterson is trapped there. I want a party going out,” his orders were clear, final. He was only young, just barely 25. But he was still the ranking officer.
*
It was a disaster. Bruce shook his head as he hid behind a large rock.
The rescue party had failed. The scout had failed to spot the extra Japs lurking up above the top of the trail, had failed to notice that the Diggers were outnumbered five to one. The rescue party was outnumbered twenty to one. They had no chance in hell.
Most of his troops were gone, mowed down by the excessive force of the Japs coming against them. Only half a dozen of his brave Diggers remained.
“What do we do, sir?” a private whispered, huddled up next to Bruce in the scrub.
“Go back, private. Go back. Take the others and get back to base, alert NT that the mission was a failure. Go back,” Bruce was once again absolute. He knew what he had to do. Bruce noticed that the private was going to argue, “that’s an order, private. Get back to base with the others immediately.”
The private nodded once and ran off.
*
It had to be done.
Bruce clipped his last magazine into his machine gun. He was going to go out and take as many of the Japs down with him as he possibly could.
Time seemed to slow down for Bruce as he burst out from behind his shelter, machine gun to his hip, firing away.
The Japs were clearly startled by his full frontal assault, and took time to respond. Time that they didn’t have as Bruce- cut them all down with his withering hail of machine gun fire.
Enemy soldiers fell and retreated as Bruce uttered a hoarse cry, his gun finally running dry.
He ducked, crouching behind a large rock, struggling to rearm himself in time to attack again.
Bruce jumped up once more, about to charge again.
“This is for you, Annabelle, my wife,”
The last thought that passed through Bruce’s mind as one bullet shot through his skull, one bullet fired from a Jap, a sniper hidden up the trail.
Bruce’s body fell to the ground, a bloody mess.
*
The plain wooden casket, loaded into the plane.
*
The grave, back home,
Sergeant Bruce Kingsbury
Born 19-11-1920
Died 15-09-1945
Loving husband;
A brave digger.
*
“You come back home, you hear? I love you.”