Chapter 1 - 1944 Henry's Unfriendly Fire

Chapter 1 Version 4

1944

     The aircraft carrier cut its way through the water on its way to the rendezvous point.  Across the Pacific ships steamed their way to another meeting that brought men, supplies and firepower to another island target.  A synchronized ballet of ships moved into their positions. The stage is being set for yet another performance that few wish to be either in the audience or to be on the stage. Everybody knows that the show will take place at the given time and the given place.

    

     Henry’s tent contained all of his possessions – M1 rifle and his other 782 gear, smokes and one uninvited guest. His M1 was a constant reminder of home as it was produced at the Springfield Armory. The accommodations were ok as long as the weather and the enemy cooperated. The gyrenes on the deck of the carrier knew that the voyage might be the easiest part of this operation if they remained undetected.  If detected, they would be exposed to attack from the air and from both above and below the surface of the ocean.  The tents were on the deck of the carrier for now but the marines and their tents would be part of the amphibious assault on an island that they did not know the name of yet. The name did not matter. It was just the next one.

The guest moved slowly but in a determined way on his self assigned duty.  Henry noticed the guest about half way through its mission.  Inside the tent, the guest was   setting the snare to capture its enemy.  Maybe not an enemy – more of a lunch companion. Henry saw the glint of the web strands and looked around for an appropriate weapon to dispatch the uninvited web maker.  A bullet? – Overkill and reckless.  A boot heel? – Only if the spider was on a hard surface. A lighter? – That could work.

     Henry slid his Zippo lighter from his pocket and felt the black crackled surface that was familiar to his touch. Before the war, Zippos were made of smooth brass but brass was a strategic war material so the steel lighter was painted black that chipped and cracked as the Zippo aged. Henry flipped up the lid with his thumb. The sweet smell of naptha lighter fluid alerted his unconscious mind that nicotine was on the way. A spark from the flint and the rotating steel wheel at the edge of the Zippo ignited the flame.  The flame was thrust toward the spider. Feeling the approaching heat, the spider moved up the tent support with the Zippo in hot pursuit.  The flame touched the wax coated canvas and quickly the tent became a lit candle with Henry inside it. Henry tried to put out the flames but the more he tried, the more the flames spread.

Grabbing his M1, Henry dove out of the tent and onto the deck of the carrier.  Shouts of “Fire!” rang out.  The tent became fully engulfed in flames in a flash just before a heavy stream of water sent it careening across the deck and over the side. Within seconds it was extinguished in the churning wake of the ship.

“Mitowski!”

Henry heard his name and snapped to attention.

“Mitowski was that your tent on fire?”

“Yes sir” Henry stared straight ahead knowing what was to come after the steam of profanity starting with his lineage and ending with his mother.

“Mitowski did you deliberately set fire to your tent?” Asked his sergeant.

“No sir”

“How did your tent catch fire, Mitowski?”

“A Zippo sir”

“A Zippo, Mitowski?”

“Yes sir”

“What were you lighting with your Zippo, Mitowski?”

“A spider sir”

“A spider”

“Yes sir”

“Mitowski, you didn’t just crawl out of Paris Island – how many landings have you made?”

Henry hesitated.

“How many?” shouted his sargeant.

“Six sir”

“Why didn’t you answer me right away Mitowski?”

“I was counting them sir”

That number took a few seconds to register in the sergeant’s mind. To survive an amphibious assault took courage and luck. To survive a second took away more of what luck was left. The courage was augmented with experience. By a sixth landing there was little luck left – just the bare knowledge of what was coming and the beach smarts needed to end that day as a survivor.

“So this is your sixth landing Mitowski?” asked the sergeant quelling his angry tone.

“No sir – this is number seven sir” Henry replied.

The sergeant stared into Henry’s stoic face.

Henry looked past his confronter and only saw blue sky and blue water separated by the horizon.

“Mitowski go down to stores and get another M1941 pack.”

“Yes sir”

Henry stared straight ahead expecting  to be dismissed.

“Mitowski, in the future, if you have a spider in your tent,” the sergeant hesitated for emphasis “just piss on it – understood?”

“Yes sir” Henry replied.

“Dismissed”