Author's Note

Sorry for a later upload gents! Got caught up in work and driving on Saturday

Comment if you like the chapter or if you don't like the chapter. Any criticism is welcome!

With that, Here is Chapter 4: Securing the Island

Ch.4: Securing the Island

OPTIONAL BACKGROUND MUSIC: Not needed to understand the story, but if you're interested in what James is playing, I figured I'd link it here. Some of you may know what piece of media this was featured in (Would you kindly find the series this is from?). The part you'll know it from is near the end of the composition around 4:00. And for those of you who play piano like myself, TRY this piece! It's actually a lot of fun!

Luna had not heard human music before, but from what James was showing, she thought she could get used to it.

The two of them were currently in James' study, the room that she had noticed left of the front door. Both had finished their dinner, an excellent potato and egg casserole prepared by James, and were happily sitting in the room, Luna laying down at the couch, and James playing his piano.

The mess that was on the piano when she came in was cleared away, leaving only a neat pile of music sheets stacked to the left of the music rack. The piano was well-polished and clean, the black paint gleaning in the small amount of light coming in from the sun.

She had asked him to play music from his country, perhaps as a way to peer into how they felt about life or what their culture was like outside of the war. He hadn't really talked about his nation all that much outside of today. In response to this request, he had pulled out a large book, approximately an inch thick, put it on the music rack and began playing.

What she heard didn't blow her mind, but it was peaceful, tranquil, and at times melancholic. It was like a quiet summer's evening, being shared with a friend or lover. She relaxed herself, letting her arms and limbs lie down on the cushions, and shut her eyes, enjoying the soft tune and gentle taps of James' fingers on the keys. It inspired a serene peace in her, a far cry from the events she and James had experienced together.

He made an occasional mistake here and there, obviously not having mastered its tune, but she didn't mind. She smiled to herself, so happy that James was willing to share a wonderful part of his life with her.

The two laid there for awhile, each enjoying the company of each other, and spoke nothing. Neither wanted to disrupt the peace that had befallen the room, a luxury each knew wouldn't come easily due to recent events.

James played the final notes of the composition, playing it a bit louder and more forcefully than before, but soon ended it, playing the last key softly before closing his music.

"Mmm, that was lovely, James. Who wrote that piece?" She asked, smiling up at him.

"A colored man named Scott Joplin. Think he was from Missouri? I can't rightly remember, but I will say that I loved his music," the man replied, gently placing the book back on his shelf with the rest of his music. "That piece specifically was called Solace."

"I can understand why," she chuckled to him, "It sounded very nice."

"Thank you. I've been practicing that for about a year now," he sat down at the couch next to her, his right ankle resting on his left knee at a semi-right angle.

"It's certainly paid off," she replied, scratching an itch on her ear. The two were silent for a few seconds, not knowing what to say to each other.

"Well, I've barely scratched the surface of my time in the war. That being said, would you like to keep going, or do you want me to take you home?" he inquired, almost sounding a little concerned for her.

"Yes, I want to keep going. I promised that I would help you through this and I will continue to do so," she firmly responded.

"I'm just warning you now. What you saw was just a taste of the war and what it was. You can turn back still if you're having second thoughts. So I must ask you again, Are you sure?" he emphasized the last words, eyes widened very slightly as he spoke them.

She pondered what he had told her, but remained stubborn. "Yes, I'm sure."

He looked at her for a moment, sighed, and said, "Ok.... We'll keep going. Will you join me outside and enjoy the view?"

"Of course, James," she smiled.

The two removed themselves from the couch and calmly strolled outside, sitting down in the wooden rocking chairs he had purchased at the market.

"It's been nice, being able to tell somebody about this," he muttered to her softly.

"It's been... interesting to listen to it," she calmly put it, euphemising the horrific experiences she had seen with him.

He grasped her hand, her horn starting to light up.

"If you can't take it, don't hesitate to pull us out. You hear me Princess?" he ordered.

"Crystal clear, James."

With a flash, they were off.

Once again, Luna found herself floating in the void of James' mind, not feeling weightless, but certainly not standing on solid ground either. She saw James in a similar situation, "standing" right in front of her.

"So, we had our first contact with our enemy and we lost a few men. Not a whole lot happened after their attack and our first few nights were quiet and undisturbed, aside from a few harassing shells being thrown our way. We had linked up with the 1st Marines and had taken the airfield successfully with minimal casualities. Afterwards around January, we had pushed south towards Borgen Bay, encountering some resistance from our gracious hosts. Finally, we came to a little area called 'Suicide Creek'. And, let's just say, Tojo didn't like that," he chuckled half-heartedly.

Trees began growing, the canopy quickly engulfing some of their natural light. Thick, green grass and leaves growing up to her waist replaced the dullen blackness of James' mind. A few foot long puddles lay lazily to her side and the ground was thick with mud. The heat was happily drinking up the fallen rain, a steady source of humid steam rising off of the ground and baking the Marines' faces. The men, who were now walking past her, trudged through the mud with a loud schlop.

She began walking with them, though, unimpeded by the wet mud and listened in on the conversation.

"God damn these Jap SOBs for making me endure this shit," a man from New Jersey grumbled.

"Amen," another man replied.

Young James was walking quietly, a few feet away from the men in front of him, as was every man to avoid causalities from artillery. He seemed lost in thought, his brows relaxing in a way that made him look angry. His personage, as well as every other man's, was filthy. He had a stubble beard that was starting to grow, though not mangy yet. Dirt, grime, oil, and other sorts of filth seemed glued to his face, only being dislodged when an occasional sweat droplet washed it off of his cheeks. Many of the other Marines possessed the same dirty, muddy faces as he, likely a byproduct of their time in the field. His clothes were in similar condition to himself, brown stains adorning his dungaree jacket and wet sweat marks nestled comfortably in his armpits and the collar of his shirt. His boots were caked in mud and dirt, looking like he had run through a swamp, which Luna reasoned, probably was the case.

He had nothing in his hands at the moment, his .45 nestled comfortably in his holster.

Unlike the terrible condition of the Marines, their weapons which many of them had in their hands or slung across their shoulders looked like they were in mint condition. Their barrels gleamed, reflecting the sunlight into her face, and the wood of the carbines and rifles had absolutely no mud on it. The men seemed to have neglected their own sanitation, but their rifles certainly did not share in that decision.

She assumed it was something to do with their training and their proximity to a war zone.

The men occasionally strained and adjusted their heavy packs every now again, especially the machine gunners, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Eventually the silence was broken.

"So, what are you going to do after the war, Jenkins?" James asked his friend.

Luna had heard of Jenkins from the last memory, but had not paid attention to him, being caught up in the excitement of the battle and concerned for James' safety. She looked towards where James was talking and found a thin, lanky fellow walking with the group.

Jenkins possessed a ruddy complexion, his brown hair dirty with small pieces of mud parted to his left. He was a thin man, not necessarily skin and bones, but certainly looked like he lacked a great amount of bulk as some other men had. However, he seemed to lug his rifle and pack effortlessly through the jungle, having no problem with it or adjusting it like some other men. His face was cleaner than others, although a small amount of fuzz was beginning to grow on his lip and chin. His eyes gleamed an emerald green and his face looked rugged, his jaw clenched and tight as they hiked.

"Me? I'm gonna marry my girl, work on my dad's ranch, and drive cattle like my granddaddy and his granddaddy. I'm gonna make something out of that ranch, ah tells ya," He crowed. "How bouts yaself?"

"I dunno," James reckoned, "Got no girl, got no opportunities, got nothing. Don't know what to do with maself."

"I suppose I reckoned the war would help me figure it out," James answered in his warm mountain accent, "How foolish it seems now..."

Jenkins pursed his lips and looked down. "Yeah, real adventure we got going here," he crooned, gripping his rifle with his right hand letting it lazily hang.

"Well, I dunno bout y'all. But I'm gonna go back to my home in Oregon and run my uncle's lumber business. I wanna be back amongst the trees," a new man cut in.

"Bet that ain't the only wood you'll be gettin, Dane," Jenkins snickered back at him.

"Hey, Fuck you J!"

Luna looked in the direction of the new voice that Jenkins was talking to, spying a tall, bulkier man with a tan glazing his skin. His shadowy, black matted hair also contained bits of grime and dirt much like the rest of them, but it didn't seem to bother him too much. A small smile was on his face, tempered from the constant fear and depression of being in a combat zone, but it was there nonetheless. He was lugging the tube of a 60mm mortar on his back, dubiously strapped to the top of his sack and jostling with every step he took.

The men grew quiet after that exchange, remembering that they were in fact in a war zone and were surely not welcome by their ever so gracious hosts. They continued to walk in silence, until the sound of a flowing creek began to hit the ears of the patrol.

Up ahead lay a vast amount of jungle growth that was covering the Marines view of the creek in question. Not only could they not see out into the creek, but the foliage on the other side was just as thick, blocking their vision and obscuring everything behind it. Muddy land lay all around it, seeping into their boondockers as they trudged ever closer to the shore.

RATT RATT RATT RATTA TA TA

A flash and burst of machine gun fire ripped through the trees as each man swiftly hit the deck. Aimed rifle fire began to join the cacophony of heavy gun as Japanese riflemen began to add their volleys to the fray. The scene was violently thrown into chaos as the Marines began to open fire on the assailants, wildly firing into the mass of jungle and hoping for the best.

"Goddamnit! We just walked right into the entire Jap army!" one man screamed, his M1 pinging as he ran out of ammo.

"How many of 'em can you see?" James yelled back.

"I don't know! I can't see through all this damn jungle!"

More Type 96 fire ripped through the trees, a burst hitting two Marines on the ground. One man met a swift end, a round cleanly taking the top of his skull off, his brain matter splattering all over the Marine behind him. The man receiving the matter looked on in horror as the realization of what had just happened hit him and he began to violently throw up into the dirt, frantically wiping at his face to dislodge the fallen Marine's brain from himself.

The other man next to the fallen Marine was not so lucky. The burst cut straight through his femoral artery and hit the femur, bending the bone out of shape towards his left leg and opening the artery into the ground. Spurts of blood flew into the creek and all over the platoon as the man violently thrashed around clutching his leg.

"Oh Jesus let me die! It hurts so bad! For Christ sake Jesus, kill me!" the man screamed to God.

James had already noticed the bleeding man and was frantically crawling over to him, hoping to save him before he bled out his femoral. But, as he approached, it seemed that Jesus had answered the man's prayer, as James watched him topple over dead.

The fight still going on, she saw him crawl off to treat the next casualty, a trail of slightly damp mud being left in his wake. The usual TWANG and THOOM of bullets flying past her rang out around her, many hitting the water and dirt near the Marines position. She was able to make out a few flashes of light across the creek, quickly lighting up and dying down. Infrequently, other flashes, firing much slower, would also rocket out of the stone enclosure that the enemy was holed up in.

By now, the 60mm mortarmen had hastily set up their gun and began firing as fast as they could onto the other side of the creek. Each time the shell landed, the firing from the bunker seemed to stop for a bit, the gunners likely taking cover from the blast. This, however, resulted in even more ferocity of fire from the gunners in the bunker, anxious to take out the mortarmen threatening their lives.

Luna could see the still remaining Marines begin to dig into the earth with their entrenchment tools. The NCO leading the patrol had ordered them to dig foxholes for cover, probably anticipating a long drawn out skirmish with the Japanese. Those who weren't were still firing their weapons like their lives depended on it, which was certainly the case.

She hadn't noticed James crawl up to his NCO and crouched down to listen in on the conversation.

"I gotta get our wounded out of here!" James screamed over the noise.

"You can't! You step foot out of this position, you'll become a Jap bullet pincushion! If we get a stretcher team down here, they're just as fucked!" his sergeant yelled back.

"I got critical patients here! Uler's got a tourniquet on him now and he's lost a lot of blood. If I don't get him to the aid station, he's done for!"

The sergeant looked hesitantly out behind them, gritting his teeth as he pressed his back into the dirt incline they were resting on. He yelled, "If I let you out there, you're dead. How long does he have?"

James furrowed his brows and shakily replied, "Maybe a few minutes if I keep him here."

The NCO grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, like swallowing a bitter drink. "Give him some morphine and make him comfortable."

The sergeant physically shivered as he gave the order, sentencing a man to his death, but he did not back down. James recoiled back, his mouth agape and his eyes horrified. He sat there, only a spilt second, before slowly crawling back to his wounded. Luna followed him, her eyes wet.

James reached Uler and the other wounded, wiped his face, and began to open up his pack. Uler hadn't noticed James crawl up next to him. He seemed entranced by something in the sky and paid no attention to his fatal injury, his eyes vacant and his breathing steadily declining.

"Hey Uler, I'm gonna give you a little something for the pain," James shakily cried, plunging the needle into his forearm and depressing the plunger.

Uler seemed to relax himself immediately, a dopey, grinning smile replacing his vacant look. His eyes softened themselves as he sighed and giggled, his large dimples spreading themselves on his cheeks.

"Thanks Doc," he lazily spoke, "Do you think they'll let me go home for this?"

James showed no reaction, likely trying to keep the man's spirits up. "Oh sure. They'll definitely send you home for this," he reassured the man, patting him on the shoulder, "You got the real million dollar wound."

His eyes lit up at the answer. "Wooow," he offered, laying his head back into the dirt and looking up to the sky.

He stayed like that for awhile as James sat with him. Before long though, his face saddened a little. "Doc...," he paused for a long second, "I'm afraid..."

James looked as if he had been burned in his heart. "I'm afraid too, Uler," he paused for a moment, "Will you help me not be afraid?"

The man perked up again, looking a tad worried for Doc. "Yeah, course Doc." He stretched out his hand and patted James on the shoulder, shakily and weakily, and tried to comfort him. The men said nothing, but they both got the message.

The two were silent for awhile, ignoring the chaotic screams and blasts of gunfire around them.

"Doc. I think, I think I'll sleep for a little while," he began to close his eyes.

James didn't reply back for a few seconds, his face in a frown as he tried to hold it together. "Ok, Uler. I'll wake you in a bit."

"Night Doc."

"... Night, Uler."

He waited for 20 seconds, straining his ears to listen for breathing. Short after, he put his fingers on the man's neck, checking for a pulse, and found none. He was dead.

Luna expected an outburst. She expected him to weep, to hit the ground with his fist, to curse the enemy for what they had done.

Instead, she saw nothing. James betrayed no emotion, no life, no feeling. He patted the man's shoulder softly, looked away, and crawled away to treat more casualties.

Everything began to fade into black.

Luna was stunned by what she'd seen, that familiar twang of anguish stabbing her in her heart. She slowly turned to her left to gauge how James was reacting, hastily trying to think of what she would say to him.

"Maybe... Maybe if I got Jenkins to throw a smoke, maybe I could have got him out," James bargained with nobody, quietly muttering, "Japs can't get me if they can't see me."

Luna struggled with the right words to say to him, her mouth slightly agape as she looked at the man. "Oh James, there was nothing you could do."

"It's not your fault James," she sniffed.

He said nothing as he stared into the inky blackness. "I know..." he whispered back, barely holding on.

Nothing was said after. James didn't seem all that enthusiastic to talk about the experience nor did Luna wish to provoke the man with more thoughts of the unhappy memory. But eventually, the silence came to an end, James signaling he was ready to keep going.

He cleared his throat a little, his fist up at his mouth to cover it. "We dug foxholes for the night and let some men slip out under the cover of darkness. I holed up with Howard and tried to forget about the day as best as I could. But, misery wasn't done with me yet and it was soon I had another problem to worry about that night."

The jungle was still, a small sea breeze blowing through the trees as the creek softly flowed out to sea. The moon was covered partially by the clouds, a little light peaking out through the trees, but not enough to see well. Frogs and other nocturnal creatures spoke calls into the air as the Marines lay themselves down for a bit of sleep.

She spotted James and Howard sitting quietly among the darkness, laying in a foxhole about 6 feet wide and 2 feet deep. Howard was softly dozing, laying back on the incline and facing the creek, clutching his M1 with his hands with his finger out of the trigger. James was laying back left of him, watching the creek solemnly and attentively keeping watch for infiltrators. His right hand was clutching the large .45 Automatic that he was issued while his left hand sat lazily on the ground. She noticed that he had stuck his KABAR into the ground to his left, the handle sticking upright out of the dirt while the blade sat sheathed in the soil.

She gulped at the realization of why he had left his KABAR in such an easy to reach position.

James himself looked exhausted, small bags under his eyes and his beard scruffy with dirt. His mangy hair had been rangled into his helmet and his clothes were still dirty from the day's fighting.

But his eyes showed the real exhaustion that he was feeling and Luna was certain it wasn't physical. His eyes looked sullen, tired, and his cheeks drooped slightly. His face betrayed a quiet misery, a battle going on within himself, only coming out because no one could see it.

It broke her heart to see him like this.

Suddenly, there was rustling in the leaves, sticks crackling and dead leaves popping. James perked up, attentively listening for the noise. There was silence after the initial sound, but then it happened again.

Silence.

More shifting.

Silence.

Crackling and crinkling again.

Someone was sneaking towards the line and was trying to hide it by pausing every few seconds. It sounded like he was coming straight towards their foxhole!

James aimed his .45 and sat up straighter, peaking over the crest of his foxhole more to see better. His finger sat comfortably on the heavy trigger, ready to apply the pressure and fire the weapon.

"What's the password" he challenged the intruding body.

No response. The leaves fell silent for a second, but the noise continued again.

"Password," he challenged again, louder this time.

No response still.

His finger applied more pressure, so close to firing that a slight twitch from him would set the handgun off. His hand shakily held the pistol as he aimed down his sights towards the foliage. His left hand began to grip his KABAR, ready to pull it out of the earth and jab it into the infiltrator.

"Shinu, buta!" a voice called out.

A Japanese burst through the jungle, a saber in his hands raised ready to strike the unfortunate Marine laying in the foxholes. He wore branches and leaves on his shoulders to camouflage himself better, much similar to the attackers during the first assault. His face looked enraged and fanatical, ready to strike down the American dogs for his emperor.

BANG BANG BANG!

James, almost on autopilot, squeezed off three incredibly quick shots into the mans chest as he swung his knife into the Jap's stomach, stabbing him.

The infiltrator's face contorted into an agonized look, his brows furrowing and his teeth gnashing. He had dropped his saber and was clutching his stomach where the KABAR sat nestled. Before long, he dropped to the ground behind him, dead.

The young James stared in disbelief, crouching down in his foxhole and eyeing the corpse.

Soon, he turned his head down and looked at his pistol, looking locked in sober reflection. He had just killed a man in close range, seeing his face contort in agony, and fall by his hand. Still in a sober trance, he plucked his KABAR out of the man's stomach, blood draining from the corpse, and cleaned it with a piece of cloth, sheathing it when he was finished.

"That sounded like it was from Doc's foxhole," Luna heard some of his men chatter.

"DOC! You ok?" One man shouted.

James didn't respond, still processing what he had done. Howard, who by now was wide awake, answered for the frazzled corpsman. "We're fine! Doc got the Jap bastard," he called back before nestling down in his foxhole again. The air was quiet once more.

Howard eyed his friend worryingly and patted him on the shoulder. "You saved our lives. He would have got both of us if you weren't here," he reassured, "You did what you had to do, Jim."

"Yeah," he responded quietly, "Go back to sleep Howard. I'll keep watch."

Everything faded to black, the two once again standing in limbo.

"That was the first time I'd ever killed a man," James started, Luna about to say something, but staying silent, "It came as a... jolt, seeing clearly, the pain I had caused that man when my bullets and knife hit him. It suddenly made the war... a very personal affair. The expression I'd seen on him filled me with shame for my actions for awhile, then disgust for the war and the misery it caused us all. But, that didn't stay long either before it was replaced with a hatred for the Japanese soldier and his emperor. It filled me with anger that I was going to have to fight on every God-forsaken piece of dirt in the Pacific and kill every last one of them before I could go home."

He took a breath and continued, "We thought they would never surrender and we'd never go home. Sitting there, I remembered the dead. So... so many of them. So many maimed for life. So many bright young men consigned to the ashes of the past, to be remembered no more. It disgusted me to my core," he scowled.

Luna sat in silence, just drinking in what he was telling her. In her many years of life, she had not met a creature who had been so accosted by such an experience and it broke her heart, especially since she had feelings for said creature.

She grasped his hand softly and rubbed it a little, trying to comfort him as best she could.

James didn't respond positively at the action, but he didn't try to stop her.

"After that night, the boys came back with a Sherman who pumped 3 shells into the bunker and wiped out the Jap emplacement. Soon, the Cape Gloucester portion of the island was declared secure and the real fight began."

"The real fight? How was that not the real fight?" she asked, extremely confused.

"We stopped fighting the Japanese, but we stayed on the island for another 3 months, taking out pockets of resistance and occupying. We camped in that jungle for the whole time where we met our real enemy,"

"Rain... and ourselves."