He wasn't the only one.
As they neared the islands, he and his platoon were transferred onto an amphibian troop transport boat. The larger battleships were gunning the hell out of the island. Japanese Zeroes were flying all over the place. These Zeroes were shooting at the landing crafts loaded with troops, and the U.S. ships were firing back.
Dad said that everybody was praying--especially the atheists--and a few were crying. My Dad was praying, too, because, since he wore a white armband with a red cross on it, it made him an obvious target. He had heard that officers and medics were always at the head of the line when it came to the enemy picking which targets to shoot and kill.
He was sitting up high, and could see the troops already on the shore. Some of the landing crafts had made it. Others were not so lucky, and were on fire. He saw soldiers jumping over the sides and into the deep water. There was no helping them.
As Dad's craft neared the beach, he saw a Zero heading right for his boat. The Zero was coming directly at them from the direction of the island. Its machine guns were blasting, but the shots were too high and passed over them, hitting the water behind them.
Dad said that even with the noise of the battle raging on, to him the world became silent. He couldn't hear any of the explosions, any of the gunfire, or any of the men dying. He and the rest of the soldiers on the boat didn't move, didn't make a sound. All they could do was look up at the Zero heading straight for them, their eyes wide. I hesitate to say "wide with fear," because I don't know if it's fear you feel when you realize you're an instant away from being blasted into oblivion.
All eyes were on the Zero. It was aiming right at them, its guns spitting certain death for the unfortunate ones whose time had come. When...
All of a sudden, the machine gun mounted at the back of their landing craft opened up and began firing back. Dad turned around, and saw the soldier behind the machine gun focusing intently on the Zero, his machine gun spitting out fire and smoke. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The act may have been a futile one, but at least it gave them a fighting chance.
Dad turned back to look at the Zero flying closer to the boat. Everything must have happened in seconds, but, time slowed, and those seconds were the longest of his life. Just when everyone was sure they were done for--BAM!--the glass of the Zero's cockpit shattered into a million pieces. It's hit! The pilot was visible now, but, unfortunately, he didn't seem to be hurt. Dad saw him so clearly he could count the blackheads on the tip of his nose. Years later, as my father was telling me this story, he said that he could still remember the pilot's face.
Dad said that at the last second, the Zero swerved to the right. Whether it swerved because the plane had been shot or the pilot had been shot or the pilot was instinctively trying to evade the machine gun fire, it doesn't matter. All that mattered was the plane swerved to the right, missing them. Their lives were spared. For the moment, at least.
The plane had missed them, but the landing craft next to them wasn't so lucky. It hit them dead center. The plane crashed into it and exploded. Pieces of the plane and the landing craft flew everywhere. Human body parts, too.
Later, that soldier behind the machine gun who had saved all their lives was court martialed, and he lost a rank. All because he had opened up on that Zero without being ordered to. Their commander felt that there was a chance that the Zero would have missed their ship, even though it was heading right at them. Maybe it would have, maybe not. Either way, you can't change history.
There were several more explosions, and chunks of debris and jagged metal from the plane and landing craft flew all over the place. Thick black smoke rose from the flames of the wreckage, but there was nothing they could do for that boat or its crew.
He never found out if there were any survivors, but he didn't see how there could be. He was just glad that it wasn't his time, it just wasn't his time. Maybe there was something to this praying stuff, after all. His landing craft landed a few minutes later.
My father stepped off the boat and into Hell.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.blogspot.com
jimduchene.blogspot.com Fifty Shades of Funny
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