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■ —It’s All Quiet in the Jungles, At Least ior Those Back Hom e(By Stall Sft Gerald A. Walitdel, Marin* Corps Combat Corre-^ spend ent)vJiorth American Newspaper Alliance- The Marine platoon threadedthrough, the jungle, the men wellspaced, observant, cautious.A single shot punctuated theifienoe. A sniper. An officerpassed the word:Tell Osborne to come up here.”He was asking for Pfc FloydOsborne, 18, an Indian youth fromFort Hall, Idaho, an expert scoutThe officer waited, Where’sOsborne?” he whispered hoarsely.The message came up to him,passed from man to man: Thatwas Osborne the sniper got Rightbetween the eyes.”* * *Pfc Charles C. Bradshaw, 18, of Indianapolis, learned to swim at the YMCA. He liked to swim— but this time was different It was growing darker. They-were giving wounded Marines morphine and plasma. They were burying the dead.Pfc. Bradshaw shivered in the *harp sea breeze. He was naked except for a cord around his waist and the two hand grenades that hung there. His clothes, bat-Uetom, sweat-stained, lay m a heap at his feet, in his foxhole at the edge of the river.Marines had to cross the river. But first someone had to swim across and reconnoiter. Bradshaw was silent, like the men who covered his crossing with automatic fire. He slipped into the dark, irullen waters of the Natamo.The Japanese on the other side didn’t open fire. They were w*ait-ing for more Marines,But the Marine column didn’t cross that night. Bradshaw hadsignaled tlfem back before drifting downstream to safety, away from the Japanese machine gun he had discovered.* * *The night ended, suddenly, with the burst of dawn that heralds a tropic day. The day’s fighting started with the casuaIncss of a morning stroll /Maj. Richmond ts eating breakfast with his staff, hot black coffee and a can. of cold meat and beans, as the firing starts ahead. Maj. Richmond pauses only long enough to point with his spoon.Get going,” he directs the nearest mortar officer.He is 1st Lt. James W. Slack of Zanesville, Ohio. He callu Cpl. Joseph J. Caruso, 20, of Norwood, Mass., a mortar section leader.Caruso’s mortar lobs a half dozen shells over the lines while Lieut. Slack watches tie bursts through his glasses,Slack: Up one not eft. That’s right. Up 25 yards. Now to the right. Orice over lighilr.”An Infantry officer cuts in: Fan the area from left to right. Traverse 30 yards.”Carnso: Sorry, sir I” To his men: Why can’t they make up their minds?Slack: Bring it left now, Joe, left. More left, Joe.”Caruso (proudly): ‘T’jl bet we’ve giving them a beating. Come on, baby doll.”Slack: Now you’re right on! Twelve rounds right there. Hey, Joe. that’s good.”Caruso: Hurry up with that ammunition there, we got shootin’ ]t a rin ” 1
Newspaper Details
The Berkshire Evening Eagle
Pittsfield, Massachusetts, US
Fri, May 26, 1944
Page 8
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 31 Jul 2020
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