Last Flight of the Buffaloes - a World War II Story on the Fall of Java

Chapter 8 - The Wounded, Half the World Away

The rain made things generally difficult on the road and even more difficult on the camp. He heard whistles from afar and gunshots, rifle, machinegun, Tommy guns, everything... As he entered the camp, Jack saw U.S. artillerymen taking up rifles, mixing in with different men wearing different uniforms, with no one clear in command. He saw Australian shorts wet with rain and mud, unbloused Dutch-Javanese boots and tattered uniforms carrying Mannlicher rifles, American G.I.'s with broken down uniforms and clogged Springfields. It was hectic, everyone was running around, and rounds were flying everywhere. Jack kept his head down even as he drove. He had become insensitive to the gunfire now, his ears ringing and half-deaf.

He hit the brakes just in time to stop in front of the aid station.

"Medic! Medic! I got an American NCO heavily wounded!"

A Dutch doctor came to him, a volunteer nurse by his side. He checked his pulse and saw his injuries. He signaled for a stretcher. "We got a lot of heavily wounded tonight, sir." Said the Dutchman.

Jack replied in Dutch. "You gotta do something, doctor—"

"Your friend will have to wait. We're operating on many, just as important as him."

Jack looked at Nescu. No, that's not gonna be how it works. He was angry, but was there nothing he could do. He went up to the Dutch doctor, grabbed his arm and said to him closely. "This guy saved your asses from being handed off to the Japs. He's the only reason you all are still standing here fighting the Japs back!"

The doctor gently put Jack's hand away from his arm. Calmly, he said, "Other people are dying too. How can you not understand that, meneer?" he turned away. The stretcher bearers took him gently off the jeep and into the tent. The nurse, also soaked by the rain, marked him as severe, and told the orderlies to bring him to the Code Red section.

Jack was left speechless in the rain. There was a lot of shouting coming from the tent, all wounded, all dying. He stood there, staring into nothing, until he heard someone coming in. "Oy! Get out of the fucking way!" he said, and he was carrying a wounded friend, just like he was. He shouted, the same like him: "I need a medic! I need a medic!"

He shouldered his rifle and went on. His uniform completely soaked, he went on to find Colonel Tharp. He remembered where the tent was and headed there, dodging bullets, moving from cover to cover. He couldn't remember much but in his delirium, he noticed a bunch of barechest artillerymen in Brodie helmets taking cover and firing at the advancing Japanese. A couple placed a Browning M1917 machinegun atop some crates, and with one at the gun and the other by his side with the ammo, they started firing. The Japanese, still in the distant treeline away, also put up a ferocious advance. A lot of Japanese tried to maneuver, but well-placed suppressing fire from the American camp allowed them to be held at bay. Anyone who popped their head up was sure to get their heads shot right through. However, the darkness did not help the defenders... Several Japanese soldiers got close enough eventually to the machinegunners, and shot them from close range. The assistant gunner, only noticing then, turned around to bring his rifle back up, only to get shot, collapsing on the ground next to his comrade. The Japanese took the machinegun and turned it around, but before they did, a group of American artillerymen charged against them, wrestling them on the wet, muddy ground. Clenched teeth and angry eyes were all about as the Americans and Japanese fought for their lives. The tie was broken, however, when an American officer with a .45 auto pistol stepped on one of the Japanese soldiers' neck and fired off a couple of shots, puncturing his skull. With the officer, a stream of men came, as they charged ahead, taking the machinegun back.

Amidst the madness, Jack took some shots by lying down near an American truck. Aim was hard to maintain with the pouring rain, but Fort Benning's firing ranges had taught him well. The Japanese in the distance moved straight in advance and sideways in support. A Japanese squad, advancing, went straight just 200 meters short of him. Going down his sights, he caught one who popped his head up a bit too high, who was blown away on the shoulder, then another, who tried to help him.

Just as he was about to fire on another one, there was a large cry from the Japanese lines, and slowly, they withdrew, back into the woods, where they had come from. Remembering that it used to be the position of the Australian 2/3 Machine Gun Battalion, that meant the Australians had been pushed back, badly. The Japanese had won a lot of ground, and at this rate, and without any reinforcements, Blackforce would be overrun in a couple of hours.

The sun rose, and the rain stopped with the fighting. Bodies of Dutch, American, Australian, and Japanese uniforms, slowly became visible, a fatal result of last night's fighting. Weary and completely wet from the top of his head to the soles of his boots, Jack Desouza rose from his muddy cover, shook off the mud, took off his helmet, and headed to Colonel Tharp's tent.

Colonel Tharp, hand on a pistol, smoked his cigarette, seeing the carnage. Tharp turned his head and saw him and recognized him despite all the dirt.

"Colonel Tharp, sir." Desouza said. "We've lost the OP. Japanese platoon caught us last night. I'd like to... to report—"

"They got us all last night, Jack." He said, his eyes staring onto the ruined camp. "They're gonna attack again soon, this time from all sides."

"What are you gonna do, sir?" asked Jack.

"I don't... I don't know. But I do know what I'm thinking, see? I know, for a fact, that what brass told us that the war is going to last a year? That's all bullshit. We were caught, Jack, with our pants down. Pearl Harbor. Wake. Philippines. Singapore. Here." He paused and sucked his cigarette. He exhaled. "And I know for a fact that I ain't getting out of this Island, that's for sure."

"So we're fighting to the last, sir?"

"We're pulling back, but with 400, 500 men, added with the Australians... I don't know whether we could get to Bandoeng on time and not get encircled. The Dutch front on our right wing has broken down, the road to Bandoeng is compromised. But there is a way to get some of us off this Island. The wounded, at least." The colonel turned to him. "You did good with the O.P., Jack. Saved us some time. But now, now I'm gonna be saving time, for you."

"For me, sir?"

"You're gonna take two trucks, take all the severely wounded you can, and sprint to Bandoeng. There's an airlift being organized by the British and the Seventh Bomber Group. We ain't got a lot of men to spare, but take a couple. Load 'em up and get them out of here."

"How about you, sir?"

"We'll be right behind you." Even he knew it was bullshit.

"Understood, sir."

"Now get the wounded and get out of here. See you when I do, lieutenant."

Jack nodded. "Yes, sir!"

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