Author's Note

Hey y'all.

This is the start of these small little chapters that I'm going to release in between regular content updates. Just flesh out the little bits that I glossed over and James a bit more character that can't be expressed in our setting at the moment. These typically won't be very long, maybe 1,000-2,000 words each, but hopefully will provide a little morsel of content for you guys while I keep writing the other stuff.

Next chapter is probably going to take a little longer cause I'm on vacation. Kinda want to enjoy it with my family. But also, I'm just trying to plan out what I want the next chapter to entail, since this is SOMEWHAT of a new arc in the story. I have a general idea of where I want the story to go, but now I'm just fleshing out the specifics. But we'll get there though, I'm determined to keep writing this and keep to my update schedule. Hopefully we'll finish before school starts again (we probably won't, but hey who knows?)

Alright, heres James' Journal Entry Numero Uno

Journal Entry 1

December 17, 1943

Oh the anticipation she felt, she almost couldn't bear to keep reading. But the neat cursive handwriting drew Luna in once more.

I've never been much of a writer or author like them city boys up in New England and such. Yet, here I am. Scribbling my rambling thoughts down in a Bible. Mama would be draggin' me by the ear to the church if she found out about it! Although, I'm sure God would cut me some slack if he knew my condition.

I don't want to forget what may lie ahead of me. Maybe, in some way, it will help me along the line to write my thoughts down, whether to remember or to use them to instruct the later generation. I'm not sure which.

Camp's been alight with activity and it's only been my first day! Met the other medics and they seem nice enough. Guy named Arthur Miller and I hit it off immediately, what with us being replacements and Southern boys. He is a somber fellow, very prone to anxiety. He seems to be the only one acknowledging the great endeavor that lays ahead of us coming in the next days, always worrying about this situation or that or 'what if this happens' and such. I kid him, tease him when he gets like that, but I don't tell that I feel the exact same way.

Doubts and anxiety crowd my mind, never resting no matter where I am. I don't know how to describe it well, but I'll try my best.

I am fearful, afraid, which I suppose is natural for any man. But, I am less afraid about being shot, killed, or wounded than I am afraid about letting my unit down. I've never experienced combat, being shot at, shelled, like Perconte. Will I do my duty? Will I perform when I'm called upon? Or will I chicken out like the yellow-bellied coward that I am? Will I become catatonic on the beach? Such thoughts plague me and I pray to the Lord that He gives me guidance and strength in the coming conflict.

Well, sounds like I'm needed for a detail. Bye for now.

December 25, 1943

Well, tonight's the night.

Tomorrow, at 0800, we shall assault the beach of Cape Gloucester. I shudder to think what we shall face on the way in.

Staring down the barrel of one's possible death certainly makes them introspective. I sit outside my tent, unable to sleep, feeling exactly that. It is strange to me, and I ponder whether or not the other men of my unit feel the same way tonight. I don't really think so, but maybe they are, who knows.

I have reflected upon my life up and am afraid. Not only due to the possible physical endeavor I'm about to face, but upon the prospect that I may leave this world without having made any sort of impact upon it. I want to make something out of my life; goals, ambitions, a family. I feel more worried about not having accomplished everything I've wanted to in life rather than the great possibility of death.

Listen to me. Whining because I didn't enough trophies or do enough in my life. Guess it must sound pretty stupid, huh?

Maybe I'm just trying to distract myself.

Men will be shot, maimed, killed, wounded, mangled, strangled, whatever other ways we might die that I'm forgetting, tomorrow. I feel utterly terrified right now. I can't sleep at all, and I think Miller is much the same, though he has not joined me out here. Terrified that I might be maimed for the rest of my life. Terrified that my buddies might die.

Terrified that I will seize up and not perform my duties.

Any moment now, I feel that the others will see through my disguise of silent stoic confidence and point me out for the coward that I am.

I have prayed the Lord's Prayer five times now, hoping He will give me the strength to do my duty, to not let down my unit, and to give me strength if my death does come.

Alright, might as well get some sleep. Here's hoping I'll still be alive to write again.

December 26, 1943

The Lord has allowed me to see another sunset and I thank Him for it.

We saw action today, my first engagement with the enemy. It was as bad as everyone said it would be, but I feel a great relief has washed over me now that I've survived the ordeal. I suppose it is the fear of the unknown that has left me, now that I know what to expect of a combat encounter. I feel scared, but my fear is not as debilitating as it was when we started onto the island this morning.

I am glad to have survived, but relief from my fear has brought new obstacles to light that I had been previously ignoring. For one, this miserable island! It's swampy, hot, wet, and stinks! I have to ask why the British even bothered to set foot on this island, much less want to occupy it! Same goes for the Japs.

The heat here is sweltering, but manageable. There's ample shade from the sun in the jungle, although I already dread the disease that will be rampant the longer we stay here. Here's hoping the Japs decide to just fall on their bayonets and we can leave! A man can dream I guess...

As for the combat, it was intense and utterly baffling to me. Japs came out of the trees and just charged straight at us! Threw themselves straight at our line! It has confused me to no end that such a modern military would commit to such primeval, outdated tactics, much less against machine guns! I almost admire the Nip soldier in a way. I know if Mad Dog had given such a command, it would've been met with staunch grumbling and court martials.

As you can expect, Journal, it went about as well for the Japs as you'd expect. We cut them down mercilessly, barely any making it up to our line. Had to treat a few causalities, most will live as far as I can tell, but the enemy made a few lethal hits on some of my guys. Travis is no doubt still devastated about Carver. The two of 'em went through boot camp and Guadalcanal together, nearly inseparable. Such a great young mind who wanted to alleviate suffering taken from the world too soon.

What a pity. What a waste.

I also was witness to one of the dirtiest tricks I've yet, and now understand the hatred that the Guadalcanal veterans have for the Japanese. We lost a private to a suicide attack by one of the "dead" Japanese soldiers. Poor kid picked the wrong body to loot. Nip was sitting on a grenade the whole time just waiting for some Marine to come by. I think Travis is still wiping the blood and guts from that private off the barrel of his machine gun. Ugh, it makes me sick just thinking about it.

I'm glad Perconte drilled into me to never help a fallen Jap. I now understand why he said it...

I hope Miller fares better than us. I haven't heard from him since we boarded our landing crafts. Hopefully, he is well.

Well, journal, looks like the smoking lamp's out. Guess I'll have to call it quits for tonight. Until tomorrow, if there is one for me.