The new forums will be named Coin Return (based on the most recent vote)! You can check on the status and timeline of the transition to the new forums here.
The Guiding Principles and New Rules document is now in effect.
[IC] Godlike: 8 August 1942
PolloDiablo
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
6 August 1942
You’re in the mess of the transport ship McCawley, crammed in with the majority of the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines. The din is deafening; Marines chat loudly about the upcoming attack. It reeks of sweat and the greasy food you’ve been stomaching for the past week. At the call of “Attention on deck!” all conversation stops and everyone turns to the fore, where a map stand has been set up. Lieutenant Colonel McKelvy, the Battalion Commander, stands in front of the map. On it is a large view of a group of islands, one you’ve studied in great detail before.
He clears his throat. “All right, Marines, listen up. As you know, we are a day away from the invasion of Guadalcanal. This invasion comes eight months to the day from when the Japs hit us at Pearl. I won’t lie to you boys, it hasn’t been a pretty eight months. They’ve been hitting us all across this ocean, and with no small degree of success. Some people consider their Army invincible. We’re here to prove that that’s bullshit. The only thing they had that we didn’t was guts. It falls to us Marines to prove that we’ve more than made up that deficiency. We’re going to take the offensive in this war, and our first chance to kick the Nips in the teeth comes here. Guadalcanal. The Japs are setting up an airfield here, and if they get it running it will mean no end of trouble for our boys in the Navy. If we can take it, we can stall their whole offensive in the area, maybe take some of the pressure off the Australians.
“You know the plan, but I’m going to go over it one last time, because we can’t afford any fuckups. This operation consists of two task groups, X-Ray and Yoke. Task Group Yoke, made up of our Raiders and Parachutists, will attack these islands across the channel,” he points to the northern group of islands, “in order to guard us against possible artillery sites.
“Task Group X-Ray, which is most of the 1st Division, is tasked with seizing Guadalcanal itself, specifically this airfield on Lunga Point," he taps the map. "The task group is divided into three combat elements. The 5th Marines form Combat Group Able. They’ll storm the beach, then form a perimeter for us to come ashore. The 1st is Combat Group Baker. We’ve got Group Charlie as a floating reserve if we need them. Once Able has the beach, we’ll land and move through them. Our objective for D-Day is this grassy knoll,” He points at a raised area south of the airfield. “It’s got a commanding view of the airfield, and we need to clear it of Japs if our attack on the field itself is going to succeed. We estimate that it’s a few miles south of Beach Red, our landing zone. We should reach it by midday. Once we’ve taken that hill, we’ll move on to take the airfield. From there we’ll move on to clear the rest of the island.
“Our Talent groups will be of especial importance in this early phase of the battle. It will be their responsibility to find the Japs before the Japs find us. You men can take comfort in the fact that we’ve got far more of the Talents on our side than the enemy has. Talent teams are spread throughout the landing forces. Those boys back there,” he points at your group near the rear of the hall, “are Group 11, and they’re currently assigned to our Battalion. If you see a Jap do something weird, report it to them. They’ll pass the word along, and work to neutralize that enemy Talent.”
“Intelligence estimates that there are 5,000 of the bastards on Guadalcanal. Be prepared for tough fighting, but be assured, our air and naval power will see us through this. We’ve got the entire country behind this push. With enough grit, we’ll hit the Japs where it hurts. Boys, we’re done playing on the defensive. Now’s our chance to turn the whole tide of this war. Landing is at 0700 tomorrow.
“Dismissed.” With that, the Lt. Col. turns and leaves the Mess. The other Marines start talking again, and filtering from the hall, their tension easily visible.
It’s a little after noon, and the mess staff is starting to prepare lunch. It’s stifling in the ship, although on deck the sea breeze helps alleviate the heat. You’ve got the rest of the day to yourselves. You’re the only Talent squad on the ship, which is currently carrying the 3rd Battalion on their way to Guadalcanal as part of a much larger convoy.
You’re in the mess of the transport ship McCawley, crammed in with the majority of the 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines. The din is deafening; Marines chat loudly about the upcoming attack. It reeks of sweat and the greasy food you’ve been stomaching for the past week. At the call of “Attention on deck!” all conversation stops and everyone turns to the fore, where a map stand has been set up. Lieutenant Colonel McKelvy, the Battalion Commander, stands in front of the map. On it is a large view of a group of islands, one you’ve studied in great detail before.
He clears his throat. “All right, Marines, listen up. As you know, we are a day away from the invasion of Guadalcanal. This invasion comes eight months to the day from when the Japs hit us at Pearl. I won’t lie to you boys, it hasn’t been a pretty eight months. They’ve been hitting us all across this ocean, and with no small degree of success. Some people consider their Army invincible. We’re here to prove that that’s bullshit. The only thing they had that we didn’t was guts. It falls to us Marines to prove that we’ve more than made up that deficiency. We’re going to take the offensive in this war, and our first chance to kick the Nips in the teeth comes here. Guadalcanal. The Japs are setting up an airfield here, and if they get it running it will mean no end of trouble for our boys in the Navy. If we can take it, we can stall their whole offensive in the area, maybe take some of the pressure off the Australians.
“You know the plan, but I’m going to go over it one last time, because we can’t afford any fuckups. This operation consists of two task groups, X-Ray and Yoke. Task Group Yoke, made up of our Raiders and Parachutists, will attack these islands across the channel,” he points to the northern group of islands, “in order to guard us against possible artillery sites.
“Task Group X-Ray, which is most of the 1st Division, is tasked with seizing Guadalcanal itself, specifically this airfield on Lunga Point," he taps the map. "The task group is divided into three combat elements. The 5th Marines form Combat Group Able. They’ll storm the beach, then form a perimeter for us to come ashore. The 1st is Combat Group Baker. We’ve got Group Charlie as a floating reserve if we need them. Once Able has the beach, we’ll land and move through them. Our objective for D-Day is this grassy knoll,” He points at a raised area south of the airfield. “It’s got a commanding view of the airfield, and we need to clear it of Japs if our attack on the field itself is going to succeed. We estimate that it’s a few miles south of Beach Red, our landing zone. We should reach it by midday. Once we’ve taken that hill, we’ll move on to take the airfield. From there we’ll move on to clear the rest of the island.
“Our Talent groups will be of especial importance in this early phase of the battle. It will be their responsibility to find the Japs before the Japs find us. You men can take comfort in the fact that we’ve got far more of the Talents on our side than the enemy has. Talent teams are spread throughout the landing forces. Those boys back there,” he points at your group near the rear of the hall, “are Group 11, and they’re currently assigned to our Battalion. If you see a Jap do something weird, report it to them. They’ll pass the word along, and work to neutralize that enemy Talent.”
“Intelligence estimates that there are 5,000 of the bastards on Guadalcanal. Be prepared for tough fighting, but be assured, our air and naval power will see us through this. We’ve got the entire country behind this push. With enough grit, we’ll hit the Japs where it hurts. Boys, we’re done playing on the defensive. Now’s our chance to turn the whole tide of this war. Landing is at 0700 tomorrow.
“Dismissed.” With that, the Lt. Col. turns and leaves the Mess. The other Marines start talking again, and filtering from the hall, their tension easily visible.
It’s a little after noon, and the mess staff is starting to prepare lunch. It’s stifling in the ship, although on deck the sea breeze helps alleviate the heat. You’ve got the rest of the day to yourselves. You’re the only Talent squad on the ship, which is currently carrying the 3rd Battalion on their way to Guadalcanal as part of a much larger convoy.
PolloDiablo on
0
Posts
"This here's the best job I ever had" he says. "They just give you all this food!"
He's going to sit here in the mess and wait for lunch unless a better opportunity presents itself.
Reaching within his front pocket, Jake retrieved a Lucky Strike cigarette and slips it behind his ear with one hand and patting the pack against his chest appreciatively with the other. He had nine more packs left in the carton back in his locker, and three more cartons besides that. The government and Section Two constantly ensured that Jake had plenty of smokes, something he couldn't complain about. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but without a cigarette, Jake just didn't feel whole, didn't feel right.
*when not taking other actions Willy, is well, unable to not roll a 2 to 5d stealth roll and take all successes
"Good? Nah. Old? Probably. American? Definitely. Food? That's debatable," he smirked. Jake seem to be an impatient kid, and kept throwing sideways glances at the kitchen while flipping a fork end over end between his fingers with a startling adroitness.
Marines crowd into every open space, including the open seats at your table. A tall man with sandy blonde hair sits down next to John. He inspects each of your faces for a moment. "You're the Talents, right? Name's Greene. You pulled T-Boat 141, right? You'll be riding with my guys, 2nd Platoon, King Company. I haven't met a Talent before. Say, can any of you fellas fly?"
Leaning on the rail next to Than, a tall, thickly muscled Marine bums a light. "Not hungry? I know how you feel." He goes back to staring out to sea.
A squadron of planes flies overhead, heading north.
"Fly? Fly... fly..." Cohen wracked his brains. "Nope, don't think so," the kid grinned. "Got somethin' better than flyin' though. Oh -- the name's Jake, Cohen," he said, extending his hand.
"HOUAAAAALGHGLGHL!"
"No. No flying. And I have to wear these dreadful regulation clothes. I miss my dress"
Pity I can't do without the last one, he thinks, and rolls over to face the wall.
Catherine saunters away from the marine and up on deck. She trots over to Than.
"Hey Than. Give me a smoke... Wow. Look at Dan feeding the fishes. HEY ! DAN ! DON'T FALL OVERBOARD !"
He could hear the idle chitchat of marines who would rather talk about anything then think about what lay ahead. Boasts to hide fear, jokes to make them laugh, talk of home to bring back good memories. It was good. Who knew the next time they'd be able to brag, or laugh or remember?
Well, no reason to be anti-social, he might as well grab a smoke with a few of his comrades, he figured, glancing at Than, Cath, and Dan. Lem pulled a pack out of his pocket, knocking it against his hand a few times before pulling one out and lighting it. He didn't smoke often but it'd been one vice he just couldn't quit, especially not around hundreds of marines who did the same thing. He puffed out smoke and nodded to his companions.
"May God grant us victory."
Catherine smiles at him.
"Those Japs won't know what hit them."
Sleep eluded him.
He counted to one hundred, timing his breaths to the groaning of the boat.
Sleep continued to elude him.
Well, fuck this.
McConnell levered himself upright and stomped up the ladder to the deck. Locating his squad, he walked over to them.
"Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. How are we all doing today?" The slightest trace of his childhood home in Kerry remained on his tongue.
"Oh we are doing just fine Mister Sergeant McConnell Sir ! It's a beautiful day to be out on the sea. Dan on the other hand..."
Dan grudgingly accepts the ginger root from Than and begins nibbling on it. "Thanks, Than, I've never been good on the water."
Dan begins flipping through the book he is currently carrying, an old copy of War and Peace, mumbling to himself while chewing the root. After a few seconds, he continues the conversation, perfectly content to read and chat at the same time.
"So when do we get back on dry land? And Than, didn't you mention you had a book for me? I haven't read anything new in ages."
He looks past Than and Catherine at Dan. "Shape up, Rutherford! Stare at the horizon and take deep, slow breaths."
Michael's broad grin takes the sting out of the words.
"Greene? Right? Well, I'm Henry, John Henry. Might've heard of me. Might've not. Depends on where you're from. We ain't got nobody who can fly, but I think we got everything in between if you know what I mean. It's simple I guess, you just let us know if you need help and we'll be there in no time."
"Now that'd be a sight, Than. Personally, it doesn't seem to matter much how high they come up so long as I can get elbow deep in them. See some real action."
He flexes his rather unremarkable arms in parody of the rippling mass he is to assume during combat. As he does so, he tries to imagine what the real thing will be like.
The kid's attention flickered between Greene and Henry, and with an air of impatience, Jake got to his feet and snapped his fingers. There was a loud pop in the mess hall as he disappeared, and a split-second later, he was up on deck.
Cohen glanced at the young girl. "Wait, we're letting him have all the fun now?" he smirked.
"If they're eyebrow high on Henry, we're gonna have some real problems" remarked Willy, having finished eating and sauntering on deck.
"Doesn't really matter how tall they are, seeing as there's no height requirement to use a gun." Lem spoke out seriously. He took another drag from his cigarette. "And a bullet's a bullet, no matter how strong or big ya are." He realized he may have dampened the mood a bit but oh well, he couldn't help being serious most of the time.
The world was a serious place.
Lem:
Dan turns the page.
"Might as well do something constructive while I have to listen to mission parameters that don't really concern me. I'm not a soldier, I just do what I'm told. Which, if you haven't noticed, involves me going to a certain spot and reading until they tell me to stop. I can't even operate a gun."