By Charles Walker
TO HELL AND BACK
For the united states, Guadalcanal was once a bloody seven-month fight below brutal stipulations opposed to crack eastern troops deeply entrenched and decided to struggle to the loss of life. For Charles Walker, this bad jungle battle–one that claimed the lives of 1,600 american citizens and greater than 23,000 Japanese–was just the start. at the eve of conflict, second Lt. Walker used to be ordered again to the States for clinical purposes. yet there has been a warfare to be received, and he had no purpose of lacking it.
In this devastatingly robust memoir, Walker captures the clash in all its horror, chaos, and heroism: the starvation, the warmth, the deafening explosions and stench of loss of life, the consistent worry damaged via moments of sheer terror. this can be the gripping story of the courageous younger American males who fought with large braveness in appalling stipulations, keen to sacrifice every thing for his or her country.
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Additional resources for Combat Officer: A Memoir of War in the South Pacific
Japanese were mixed in among them. We yelled to the Marines to cross, that we would cover them. They all made the break, but one fell into our wire. As they reached safety, one Marine turned to run back to his buddy on the wire. He picked up his friend and struggled back with him. His buddy was conscious and actually laughing. ” He looked up at me, still laughing. “I’ve been plugged three times. Golly! ” Such was the courage of those Marines. I suspected some of the wounds the Marines suffered came from our own rifle fire, a case of mistaken identity.
When I challenged, he froze, then slowly began to turn back. I had my Reising submachine gun in my hands and, although I had fired it many times during the day, I had never fired it at night. When I pulled the trigger, a blast of flame instantly blinded me. After a burst of a few rounds I pulled again and emptied the magazine. I was totally blinded. Four or five seconds went by before my runner fired his M1 rifle. We heard several men running from us, crashing through the brush. One dropped his rifle and pack as he stumbled onto one of our toilet trenches.
I made sure our machine guns were securely tied in with the Marines at this junction. My platoon headquarters tent had already been placed for me by the Marine weapons officer I had relieved. It even had a dugout with an inside entrance capable of holding four or five men. A feeder trail led from the vehicle road (sixty yards to the rear) past the corner of my tent to the frontline. Company E, 60mm mortars were located adjacent to but several yards northeast of the tent. We kept the tent side nearest the back trail open.