By Marleigh Hudlow
I race onto the ship, ducking under fallen wood and swerving past the fires hot enough that, even from this distance, I can feel my arm hair sizzling. The deck looks horrible with dead bodies strewn all about, and all I can think of is how the hell did my day end up like this.
My crew and I were sailing the sea near the Eniwetok Atoll. We were on an attack transport ship so I was surrounded by soldiers and ready for anything, or so I thought. So far the day had been peaceful; the weather was nice, there was a bit of a breeze, and my soldiers were laughing and joking. That was until the coxswain of the boat, Clyde Brien, spotted something far out. He called out to me. “Hey Lieutenant Johnson, are you seeing this?”
I hurried over to where Clyde was standing and looked out across the glistening water. I could see something in the distance, and as we slowly floated towards it I could make out the billowing black smoke. It was a landing craft infantry and it was housing our men. There was a loud crack which gained the attention of the others on board. The demeanor around me quickly turned from peaceful and friendly to panicked and ready to implement training.
“Get as close to the ship as you can,” I quickly told Clyde. Then I turned around to face my crew and started barking orders. “Be ready for anything and be ready to move fast. Grab every lifejacket we have.”
As we got close to the boat there was another sharp crack and this time we were close enough that the waves made the ship shake and there was a ringing in our ears which felt as though it might never leave. We all hit the deck when the sound went off and stayed that way until it didn’t feel as if we were experiencing an earthquake. When I looked up again I saw all the smoke coming out of the stern and immediately ordered my crew to see if they could help.
I am pulled out of my head by a scream and realize I’m still on the boat, and must have only tuned out for a second. I survey the scene in front of me and take in all the damage. My men are running all around also trying to take stock, but I look past them and try to see what to do and how to take control. As I scan the ground I see many badly burned bodies grotesquely sprawled about. Most were piled on the fantail. One man catches my eye laying in the middle of the ship; he had been decapitated. It looks like something exploded to cause that. Which leads me to force myself to look past him and over to the powder magazine, the area most likely to explode.
I send a couple of my men to look over it and hear back, “It’s bad. It was hit by the explosion and now it's on fire. The magazine could explode too.”
I turn and see a few of them stumble back as the flames grow. There are hundreds of rounds of ammunition in there and I know that if it does explode, our life jackets will do nothing. Parachutes will be more useful, and I can tell my men realize that too.
I make eye contact with the men and see fear in their eyes. Trying to be strong, I wipe all doubt out of myself, or at least make it invisible, and say, “You guys,” pointing at the ones on the right, “get a firehose out here to put out the flames. The rest of you get the shells into the water as fast as you can!”
The shells are so hot they glow a vibrant red that is similar to the embers of a fire. Even so, my men were working as fast as they could; not even bothering to keep them in their hands long enough to get burned.
I know that those men are working so I turn and survey the rest. They are scattered over the boat, turning over bodies just to see the lifeless look in their eyes and lay them to rest again. This happens over and over until I hear a distinct cry of pain and turn thinking it is one of mine. I see a couple soldiers gathering by a body and hear a loud yell over the rushing around me, “Lieutenant, there's some alive!”
I rush over and see two men in bad shape. One isn’t bleeding too bad and when I look at his face I think he might be fine, but as I do a quick scan of his body I notice something wrong. His leg has been severed just above the kneecap, and not fully so his mangled leg is hanging on by a few loose pieces of flesh.
I quickly turn around and look at the other boy on the ground. He is moaning and crying and must have been the scream from earlier. He is covered in blood and as I look down I also see a problem with his leg but it doesn’t look like he was spared the same as the other boy. His leg is ripped to shreds, as if a ravenous wolf was given it and told to go crazy, and blood is spurting out at an alarming rate.
“Patch them up the best you can. Find the med kit and then get them on the landing boat!” Then I turn to Clyde. “Find the nearest hospital ship. We don’t have equipment to fix this on our own.”
I gather the rest of my men, seeing there is nothing else we can do on this boat as everyone else has passed and the fire has been stopped. It appears my men stopped the bleeding and knocked the boys out with morphine shots. We gather everyone on our ship then head out, dropping the wounded at a hospital ship.
As I lay in my bunk that night, I keep replaying the scene over and over in my mind. The people that passed and the cry of the boy. The day had started so perfect. I close my eyes knowing I won’t get any actual sleep.