Author's Note

Howdy folks!

Happy Late Memorial Day! I was hoping to get this out in time for the day, but didn't want to rush it out to fit the deadline and make a bad product. I'm sure you all understand!

Please leave a comment if you enjoyed or if you didn't along with your criticisms. It helps me make a better story and improve my writing skills

Alright, Ch.12: To Beat the Heat

Ch.12: To Beat the Heat

"Huh, you know, this stuff is pretty good."

"See, I told you so!" a finger pointed sharply at the man.

"Alright," James set his glass down on the table next to his rocking chair, "It's not 'I'd go back to war' kind of great, but if I want some apple cider, I'll be sure to buy it from that Stetson girl."

Luna giggled, "Her name was Applejack, you big dork."

"The hell's a dork?" he took another swig off his glass, "Hmmph, tasty."

"I don't quite know what a 'dork' is, but Twilight said it a few times in our lessons and I like the way it sounds," she poured herself another glass and set the jug down on the table with a weighty THUNK.

"Whatever," he folded his hands in his lap and rocked the chair. It creaked and groaned a bit from the weight, the wood in need of some work.

A silent breeze blew through the mountain cabin's yard and swished the plants in his garden around, a dance that each participated in. Soft, saccharine aromas of his flowers pleasantly flooded into her gaping nostrils as she admired the grand landscape of her nation before her. The view up here truly was breathtaking and she was lucky that James was so willing to share this part of his life with her. Birds chirped idly as they nestled themselves down for the evening. Leaves crinkled and beat against one another as the breeze took some off of their branches, scattering them down the incline. James breathed a deep sigh.

"This is nice," he crowed, shuffling his feet, "Thanks for letting me use that prize money from last week to buy some more supplies. You didn't have to do that, you know."

She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively, "Think nothing of it, my good stallion. I didn't need nor want the money, just this sweet nectar."

"Regardless of your reasons, I appreciate the gift," he assured her, squeezing her hand in appreciation.

"You are welcome," she smiled, squeezing back.

A pleasant silence once again set itself amongst the two, neither seeking to break it and ruin the moment for some time. But, eventually, Luna spoke once more.

"How have the nightmares been?" she asked.

James paused for a moment, the question clearly catching him off guard, and laid his glass down on the table, "Fine."

That was a lie. The whole week after the festival, she searched for him in the dreamscape diligently, but found no sphere corresponding to him, telling her once again that he was staying awake.

"James you're lying and I know it. Tell me the truth," she demanded, her tone a little more forceful than she intended.

"Look, I'm a 28 year old man and I can solve my own damn problems. Just cause I got a few night terrors don't mean I can't fix it on my own," he snapped back.

She dialed back her tone to try to deescalate the situation, softening it as best she could, "Of course you can, James. But I'm able to help. I want to help you."

"You help me enough by just being my friend and listening to me. I don't need you to poke your horn into every facet of my life," he continued, his voice stern and defensive, "If I can't even control my own thoughts, what kind of a man am I?"

She paused and drank in what she had heard, "You're a good man, James. Just because you have problems in your life doesn't mean you have to solve it alone. It's ok to ask for help when you're sad," she consoled.

"It's not how a man ought to conduct himself," he murmured with a small frown.

"Hmph, well perhaps that may be back on Earth, but Equestria is different," she promised in a more upbeat tone, "Will you at least tell me about what your nightmares are about?"

He didn't answer at first, instead taking a few swigs of his cider. His eyes looked downcast and fatigued, quite unusual for a sunny, happy Saturday that they had. He frowned and idly swirled his glass around like an anxious tick. His foot bounced up and down nervously, making the wood of the porch creak a little from the weight.

"Since we talked about it, and even before then, when I go to sleep, I'm afraid when I open my eyes, I'll be back on Peleliu," James finally confessed, "Gloucester and Okinawa were terrible. Any battle will be like that, but Peleliu," he choked, "Peleliu was a whole different animal..."

"It was so," he stopped briefly to find the right way to describe it, "Incredibly intense. It was unlike anything I have experienced in my life, easily. The Japs were more ferocious, brutal, merciless. Being there was a constant maelstrom of artillery, disease, heat, and death; everything I had learned from Cape Gloucester was tested to the utmost extremes."

He focused on a porcelain white flower swaying in his garden as if he were trying to count the petals, "I may forget the pain of war and the temporary suffering as I grow old. My eyes, which once analyzed gunshot and stab wounds, may not remember the sight of screaming Marines. But, the fear and absolute terror I felt on Peleliu, that shall be with me to the end of my days," he spoke soberly.

He shuffled in his chair and breathed a deep sigh, "Well, you got me thinking about it again. We might as well continue where we left off," he finished and offered his hand, resting it gently on the polished wooden table.

Luna hesitantly took it in her own, "Are you sure James? This doesn't seem to be a good time."

"No, if I don't talk about it now, it'll be in my head for the rest of the night," he said.

"Alright, if you insist."

And they were off.

The charcoal black shadow of James' mind enveloped them. The only light illuminating their surroundings was that emanating off their persons.

But this did not last for long, for in a moment, James began his memory and the void was banished back to whence it came once more.

Peleliu hadn't changed a bit since she last 'saw' it. Sandstone colored coral rock crinkled beneath her with jagged edges cutting its way into any crevice it could find. Smoke steadily blackened the sky directly above them like a grim shadow, the ash of the bombardment ahead of them raining down on them like snow. The animals had scurried away for cover, none daring to challenge the humans who now fought upon their island.

Unfortunately, she was once again reacquainted with that oppressive heat, her fur already starting to dampen itself with sweat. Looking around her, the Marines were much the same.

She did not know how long it had been since they had landed, but from the clues she could surmise, they had to have been here for a couple hours. Their dungaree jackets and shirts were drenched with sweat. Pools of it gathered below their collars and absorbed back into the fabric. The grunt's necks gleamed in the sunlight, some severely red from burning already. A few, as they walked, made muffled SCHLOPs from their boondockers, no doubt from the ponds of sweat in their heels. If the heat and smoke of the island weren't drowning out her sense of smell, she surely would have breathed in their stench, no doubt reeking to the high heavens.

This island was becoming an oven and the Marines quickly realized they were about to be roast turkey if they didn't get out of the sun soon.

A private took a swig out of his canteen as he huddled into what little shade he could find.

"Try to save your water Private. Supply's having a hard time getting extra water on shore. Don't know how long we'll be short," a corporal advised the young man.

The platoon was stopped behind a thick layer of brush providing ample concealment from the enemy holed up in the airfield. Men huddled around trees and high bushes to find any shade they could. Most conversed with one another quietly, trying to forget the conditions they were subjected to. Some others, though, fiddled with their weapons, wiping off any dirt, coral, or grime that had accumulated in the couple hours on the beach. At each time, at least 3 men were drinking from their canteens, the supply of each trooper running low swiftly.

She finally spotted James leaning over a couple men lying in the shade, feeding them water through a canteen.

"That's it Private. Drink up," he consoled, tipping the canteen more and gripping the private's chin.

"I don't... feel so good Doc," the private strained to utter his sentence, his face colored red like a tomato with sweat glistening all over his body. He breathed fast, showing a great struggle to get his breaths in, and seemed to be out of it.

"I know, son. The heat blows, but you'll be back on ship soon enough. Just rest easy while we get the AMTRACs here," he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the sweat from the young man's forehead.

"Can... Can I get some more water?" he struggled out.

"I want to, but I've got to get some of this to your other squadmates. I'll try to get some water for you as soon as I can," he leaned over another man suffering from heat exhaustion, an burly NCO, while continuing to talk, "Just don't move, stay in the shade, and try to think about home."

She watched as he fed water to the other supine Marines, taking care to divide up his dwindling ration equally among them. It was barely enough, each Marine voicing their need to him, but it was all he had. The tap had run dry, much to their dismay. Leaving them in the care of one of the mortarmen for a few minutes, Luna followed him as he crouched his way to the northern side of their position, just outside the large, open area of the airfield. He stopped just beside Mad Dog and First Sergeant Salt, eyeing the airfield through their binoculars.

"Hey Skipper, any news on the water yet?" James took a knee next to his company commander, resting his arm on his kneecap and gazing out at the open airfield.

"Supply's working on it," Mad Dog replied half-heartedly, his attention clearly focused on the airfield the 5th Marines were about to assault come the next day.

"Sir, I really need that water. A fifth of our company is suffering from heat exhaustion and the rest of my platoon's canteens are gonna be empty real soon. Miller's been scrounging as much water as he can as well as Perconte. Do you have any sort of ETA or idea when it'll be here?" James responded more poignantly, his tone sounding more insubordinate than he normally would allow.

If it was any other enlisted man or junior NCO that had addressed their commanding officer with the slight lip James had just given, he was sure he would've received the chewing-out of his lifetime. Salt certainly was giving him the stink-eye for his barely constrained dereliction.

Thankfully, the Captain didn't notice or chose to ignore it, "I'm sorry, Doc. I didn't mean to come off sounding uncaring. The water should be on its way soon. I've got a detail out waiting on the beach. Hopefully, the damn Supply officers will do their job for once," he mumbled, looking through his binoculars once more.

James studied him curiously, "If you don't mind me asking sir, what are you looking at?"

"Ah, I was just curious. 5th Marines are gonna hit the airfield tomorrow. I wanted to check it out before they did," he answered, still peering through his binoculars, "God, they're gonna catch hell."

"You think so sir?" he asked.

"I'd be surprised if they didn't! Airfield's the whole reason we're here, even more for the Japs. I'd think it's a trap if they weren't shooting at us the moment we stepped onto the tarmac," he chuckled, "Boy, am I glad I don't have to assault that..."

"Amen," Salt agreed.

James nodded, "Alright sir, I've gotta get back to it. Thanks for the update."

"No problem, Doc," his Captain gave a brief salute which James returned respectfully.

Crouching his way back and staying behind the concealment of the thick brush, he made his way back to the rest of the platoon, their condition having not changed in the last few minutes he was away. Most were starting to dig their foxholes for the night, the evening sun starting to settle down but not letting up in frying the Marines. He relieved the mortarman of his detail, thanking him for his time, and resumed care for his patients, desperately trying to find ways to cool them with what little resources he had in the blistering heat.

"Some of the boys in the 5th Marines found water!" a frantic replacement private scrambled in with his pivotal announcement.

Muffled whispers of "Water?", "They got water!" diffused their way through the ranks of the enlisted men, a glimpse of hope starting to show across their faces.

"Hey, settle down, the lot of ya!" the Lieutenant barked his order to the platoon, "Jenkins, Gates, you go with him and check it out. See if you can get some for the rest of the platoon."

He turned his attention to James, "Doc, you go too. Make sure the water wasn't poisoned or tampered with by the Nips."

"Aye, sir," he began to carry out his order swiftly. Grabbing his supplies off of the rock he laid them beside, he strapped them on, checked his pistol, and marched with the other three Marines towards the site.

It wasn't far to the 5th Marines position, just a short block's length away, and the four of them found the large group of Marines crowding around a hole in the ground. James pushed his way through to see what was going on. Luna followed with her James right behind her.

About 3-4 feet in the ground lay a expansive, dirty pool of water about 4 feet across. It was murky, opaque with gravel and coral dust floating around in it, a far cry from the fresh, treated water she so gratefully enjoyed back at the castle. Bits of gray, ashy dirt floated on the surface like little islands and bounced into each other idly. A strange smell emanated off it, not quite right but not repulsive either.

What made Luna really gag was the short Marine standing in the water up to his calves, contaminating it with his sweaty feet, and handing up helmets full of water to his comrades, who seemingly didn't care that they were drinking someone's foot sweat. Other men thrust their helmets to him, eager to get their hands on relief from their dehydration.

"Get some water over here for me, will ya?" one private thrust out his canteen to the man.

"HEY!" James yelled over the commotion, "Don't drink the water! It might be poisoned!"

As if ordained by God or fate, depending on one's beliefs, one Marine, who just finished drinking half a helmet full of water, piped up while clutching his stomach, "I don't feel good," and promptly dropped to the floor.

James let out an exasperated sigh, "Dammit."

He moved to pick the man up and carry him back to his unit's corpsman. He pointed to a few men, "You, you, and you, help me take this man back to your unit. The rest of you, go back to your units and stay there. Dump all of that water out."

The three he pointed to began ambling their way back to their unit, carrying the passed out man by his arms and legs, while James began to treat him. The crowd started to disperse, each one going back to his post, grumbles and groaning clear to hear. Unfortunately, they'd have to wait a little longer for reprieve, and it bothered them to no end.

"Damn this heat," a Marine grumbled to his buddy while walking back. The other nodded in agreement.

But alas, the heat cared not for what a few Americans say about it, for it continued its oppressions well into the evening.

Luna watched in mild fascination as James went through treating various heat casualties of the 5th Marines, electing to lend a hand to their 'Doc' for a few minutes. When he was finished, he put on his helmet, adjusted his pack, and walked back to his unit, keeping a low profile the whole way there to not attract attention.

He arrived safely back at their position, now greeted by dozens of foxholes and the Marines occupying them talking with each other. The heat had thankfully started to die down, although it certainly wasn't much. The sun was gradually making its way down towards the horizon, but it wasn't going to set before giving them a few more sunburns. If he weren't in front of the rest of his unit, James would've flipped off the celestial star, but refrained.

Luna noticed that the heat casualties had been evacuated in his absence, which seemed to bring some semblance of happiness to the corpsman, if evidenced by the small, barely perceptible smile on his face.

"Hey Jim, where ya been?" Howard waved over to him from their foxhole, grabbing both his foxhole buddy's and Luna's attention. He scooted himself over as James joined him in the fighting hole.

"Huh, I could ask you the same thing," he confusedly asked. Howard had simply disappeared after the beach landing, probably out on some patrol or clearing out a bunker.

"Out on a detail bringing supplies in, which I heard you were awfully insistent on getting," he poked a finger at him, taking a swig out of his canteen.

"Yeah, so was everyone else," he chuckled, "Hey, uh, can I get some of that?"

He gestured to his canteen, which Howard kindly obliged him with, strangely with a sinister looking smile. James dismissed it, his dehydration overpowering his curiosity for the peculiar gaze. He took a large gulp, swinging his head all the way back, and swallowed a huge portion down.

Almost immediately, he hacked and coughed out the remaining water in his mouth, its wet droplets splattering all over the opposite side of their hole. James wheezed, coughed, and heaved as his stomach quite emphatically rejected the cool water he had tried to force down his gullet.

When he had finally gained his composure, after quite a while, he peeked his eye through the canteen and stared at its contents for the perceived culprit.

"Howard," he mumbled with all the restraint of a saint, "Why is there oil in your water?"

"Ah well," Howard barely contained a snort, "Water resupply... snirk, came in those big oil drums that we would clean on Pavuvu."

James continued to barely constrain his composure, "And you neglected to tell me this, why?"

"Ah just wanted to see the look on your face, Jim," and upon utterance, Howard lost it in a fit of giggles.

James, for the most part, took it rather well, only giving his good friend a hard shove and rolling his eyes. For all they had experienced that day, a little harmless 'practical joke' was the least of his problems.

Unfortunately, his dehydration was still one of them and it wasn't getting any better. He eyed the liquid tepidly, wondering if another swig of polluted water would be worth the pain of the motor oil cocktail floating around in the water.

Well, he reached his answer pretty quick, as he steeled his face and tipped the canteen again.

Oh God, it was like drinking gasoline and motor oil while polishing your penis with paint thinner! The foul stench rising through his nostrils while painfully swallowing it all down made the experience even worse. He fought back his body's urges to throw it back up, practically deepthroating his fist with how firmly he was pressing it against his zipped-closed mouth. The water gave one last 'screw you' to him as it set its bitter aftertaste on his taste buds, the filmy residue probably clinging to his teeth and eating away his gums.

"God, you got any whiskey to wash that stuff down?" James asked, grimacing.

"Yeah, here," Howard offered a thin flask to him, grabbing his own ration from his coat pocket and snapped the top off.

"Happy D-Day Jim," he toasted and took a swig, James doing the same as the twilight started to overtake the sun.

As the two were enjoying their shot, the order rang out, "The smoking lamp is out!" All talk ceased, all lights put out, and rifles cocked at the ready.

"I'll take first watch, Jim. Get yourself some sleep," Howard grabbed his Garand before he faded from view, along with the rest of the squad.

Once again, the two of them deposited themselves into the inky limbo of James' psyche.

"I do not envy you James. To think your commanders were so careless in the storage of their water rations!" Luna scoffed.

"Oh, indeed. We cursed those supply officers, and to an extent ourselves, for the gross incompetence they'd displayed with their choice of 'storage' for our water," he added.

"Yourselves? Why would you curse yourselves for their mistake?" she tilted her head in mild bewilderment.

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, "One of the details back on Pavuvu for the enlisted was cleaning out those oil drums. We'd spend a lot of our time, well not our since I wasn't apart of those details, scrubbing them out for the next campaign. Maybe it was careless of our officers to choose to stow the water in improper storage, but it was somewhat our fault that the water was polluted because we didn't clean them properly and shirked off on duty."

"Perhaps, but it was still irresponsible of your leaders to do such a thing to you," Luna doubled down.

"Amen to that," he agreed.

"Tensions were high as the night set in. I'm sure you can understand that the possibility of a visit from a Japanese infiltrator was alarming to say the least. We were all on our guard and on that night, I was no different."

Night had fallen upon the land, the dim twilight beaten back by the encompassing darkness of midnight. She found James sitting quietly in his foxhole, breathing slowly and watching the treeline ahead of him for movement. Howard dozed peacefully beside him, his rifle cradled like a babe in his arms with all the gentleness of a new mother. No light and no sound was seen or heard by the Marines, the sentries keeping an astute watch for enemies around them.

James himself was tired, that much was plain to see. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and dry from use. His clean shaven face was dirty and his eyes sunk into fleshy bags. Certainly, he was holding on by a thread, only keeping himself awake by idly flicking a piece of metal on the 'Tommy' gun he was brandishing.

"Wait, where did you get that, James?" Luna interrupted her own observations.

"Ah right, forgot about that. Miller had asked to be issued a Thompson for this campaign, and since the Skipper had a few lying around in inventory all unissued, he was obliged. He was courteous enough to lend me it every so often during the nights, this being one of them, and we ended up sharing it throughout the campaign," he educated her like she was one of his students, "Very nice firearm if I say so."

Satisfied with his explanation, she turned her attention back to the sitting zombie before her as he fought himself to stay awake.

"I guess old habits die hard," she remarked to herself.

Just then, a shuffling of the coral rock caught the 'zombie's' attention. That sure woke him up!

He sprang up in his foxhole, sitting in a ready position as he scanned his surroundings for the disturbance. Only silence greeted him, the noise having gone dark swiftly.

Just as he was about to sink down into the hole again, thinking it was some bird, the shuffling happened again, this time a little louder.

Ok, that was definitely not a bird. The sound was too loud to be caused by any of the small birds that lived on this island.

In fact, the interval was an awful lot like that of the infiltrator who attacked him on Gloucester; shuffle, silence, shamble, silence.

It was another repeat from Gloucester. Any moment now the Jap was gonna sprint out of the brush with his saber raised ready to kill him.

He raised his Tommy towards the sound and issued the challenge.

"Password," he firmly spoke, not making the mistake of issuing the challenge silently again.

The Jap fell silent, but continued in a matter of moments.

"Password!" he began to put pressure on the trigger, ready to release a burst.

No answer. The noise was close enough now that the Jap definitely wasn't planning on throwing a grenade at him. He was going to use a knife, bayonet, or pistol. James shuddered at the thought of having to engage in hand-to-hand combat with a Jap infiltrator should he lose his gun.

Shuffle...

He was ready for him, applying more pressure on the trigger.

Sift...

A hair falling on his finger would be enough to set the SMG off. He held his breath, the tension and stress building up inside him like a gas without escape. This Jap was toast.

"Hey Doc, you got any water?"

James released all the tension built up in him by letting out a exhale, gasping for air as he lowered his gun and wiped his forehead. God, he almost shot one of his own Marines!

"Who is that?" James demanded furiously.

"Jim, it's me! Jenkins," The voice identified himself, the thin man finally coming into his view peeking his head into the foxhole.

"Jenkins, for Christ' sake, I almost shot you!" he choked out breathing heavily.

That got Jenkins' attention, his face going pale almost instantly.

"Shoot Jim, I uh... I thought you knew it was me," Jenkins meekly coughed.

"Knew it was you? How the hell am I supposed to know it was you when you didn't answer my challenge?" his anger was replacing his fear and realization.

The lanky man didn't answer, looking off to the side in clear embarrassment.

Luna watched in awe as James chewed out one of his closest friends with the vulgarity only a seasoned sailor could muster.

"Well that was certainly something," Luna remarked stunned by what she just witnessed.

"Indeed it was," James replied, "God that would've been horrible."

"What?"

"If I actually shot him. Now that I'm thinking about it, I just, man I would have been mortified," James shook his head, "No one would have blamed me. I wouldn't have gotten in trouble. Jenkins clearly was out of his foxhole at night and he didn't IMMEDIATELY respond to my challenge. But the thought of having killed one of my closest friends during the war due to a misunderstanding," he shuddered, "I would never forget it."

Never forget it; Luna supposed that was understating the thought, but stayed silent, letting the man talk his woes out.

"C'mon, let's keep going. We got a long way ahead of us and we don't have much time. Shall we?"

Soon, they were off once more back to that accursed island.