Guadalcanal PbP In-Character Thread

[countrysamurai]

Parris Island was a revolving door.
They churned you out just as fast as they could, because each day ships loaded with more recruits arrived.
Next thing you knew, you were being inoculated, classified and put back on a ship. This one was headed to the Panama Canal and then, the South Pacific.
You got a life belt. You climbed down an iron ladder into a cargo hold. There you stayed for two days while non-coms rushed around winching on food stores and cargo slings stuffed with equipment.
On the first day out, the Liberty ships tested their guns. Everyone smiled at the dull boom.
You ate two meals a day. The drinking water came on twice a day for one hour. You got deck time in two-hour shifts. Every third day, you got a shower in lukewarm seawater.
You had boat drills.
The bunks were pipe-frame canvas and rope, stacked five high. For 12 hours of every 24, you had a bunk to call your own. An alternate took it for the other half of the day.
This is how you lived for two months. The smells of urine and vomit stopped bothering you after a while.
They said six months of specialized training awaited you in the South Pacific before you would ship out for combat.
They were wrong.
The transport pulled within swimming distance of New Zealand. The docks of Wellington were frantic with ships loading and unloading.
But your transport sat in the harbor, and sat and sat.
July and the mid-winter rains didnít stop.
The food stores got wet. Soggy boxes of mushy breakfast cereal and smashed cartons of cigarettes are tossed overboard. Some of the meat in the mess hall went south and a quarter of the men on board got diarrhea.
Colds and flu spread throughout the ship.
Then, word came down.
The Pacific Invasion was going to begin. They called it Operation Watchtower.
The Liberty ship pulled into dock. Every Marine, SIS or not, is put on eight-hour shifts in a human chain moving cargo from one ship to the next.
ìOperation Watchtower, my ass,î said one Marine. ìThis joint is run on a shoestring.î
Operation Shoestring became the unofficial name.

They split up the Devilís Own.
Most of them go with McArthur to the Solomon Islands.
Six of you are assigned to Admiral Chester W. Nimitz.
Your objective: Guadalcanal.

ìWho the hellís ever hearda Guadalcanal anyhow,î one Marine said.
For a week, Task Force 61 steamed though the blue waters. More than 80 ships in all.
This ship is better than the last one. You play poker in the head. They play records once in a while, ìBlues in the Nightî and ìChattanooga Choo Choo.î You attend ìKnow Your Enemyî lectures taught by people who donít know the Japanese any better than you.
The Marines sharpen their bayonets and blacken the sights on their rifles.
The night of Aug. 6, 1942.
The loudspeaker aboard ship came to life.
ìAll troops below deck,î said the calm voice. ìAll troops below deck.î
This was it. The only time theyíve sent everyone below that meant D-Day. Invasion tomorrow morning.
The Marines filed below without the usual banter. They checked their packs one last time: mess gear, clean socks, underwear, shaving gear, and rations. Some read the Bible, others, letters from home or a beat-up comic book.
Men pulled their bunks down from the bunkheads and crawled in fully dressed. Few were sleeping.
Hours passed.
The bombarding of the beach began with the dull thudding sounds of the naval guns firing.
Suddenly everyone was up and moving, forming lines.
On the deck the guns were much louder as were the planes shrieking overhead on bombing runs. Everyone packed like sardines along the rails to watch. The planes dove. The cruisers flashed as they fired another arc of red fire. Black smoke billowed from a distant beach.
The loudspeaker came to life again.
ìLand the force!î it said.
Marines streamed over the sides of the ship like ants. They climbed down rope nets to the landing craft below. The bobbing boat below looked so small from the top of the net. It rose and fell in the swell -- one moment clanging against the side of the ship, the next four feet away.
Hollywood jogs up to the rail, cutting ahead of a couple of others, places one hand on the edge and vaults over. The star spangled banner starts to sing out of thin air as he lands on the prow of the landing craft. "Alright lads, this is it, this is what we've all trained for, no more drills! Are you with me (Fist thrust up into the air)?!

Rock snorts at the bravado of the kook who just leapt over the rail without looking to see where the boat was. As he double checks his pack for the 4th time, there's some jostling behind him, and he gets shoved into the rail, he scambles to maintain balance, and slips on a greasy spot on deck. The Corpsman goes ass over teakettle off of the boat. He thinks he might have sprained his left wrist a little.
Headfirst he goes over the rail tangling limbs in the netting. A bottleneck forms behind him, sergeants get upset at the holdup, and Hollywood ends up having to untangle him.
Marines cheer at Hollywood's actions.
Fix: "Well, lads, it looks as if we 'ave a bit of a showoff, eh? Who wants to start the bettin' pool? 5 bucks say he won' make it past the first day..."

Carson: " Oh hell Irish, I don't know about that, I kinda like the guy's style. Tell you what, put me down for a week."
The pilot of the boat piped up: "In case we end up using these MGs, it would be nice if we would have to shoot THROUGH you private Franklin."

After jostling himself into position further back, Abramovich starts to unpack his meticulously packed kit to get some tape to wrap up his wrist. He wonders what the odds are of him delivering on the promise to Lenny to take him to this great beerhall back in Krakow.

The devil's own set off for the beach, Hollywood having just crawled down to a spot right at the front ramp.

The boat fills with men, the Devil's Own and a couple of Marine Raider units.
Everyone crouches beneath the gunwales while the boat churned into the assembly area.
It and other landing craft circle there for a while.
A Sgt. Major with the Raiders comes up to the Devil's. A soggy cigar stub sticks out of the corner of his mouth. "Where's your C.O. Devils?"
The group explains that MacArthur didn't happen to leave you one of those when he split everyone up.
"Great." said the Sgt. Major. "Alright listen up." He pulls out a map of the beach. "Our objective is the airstip that the Japs are building just inland. We are coming in about here a click, from it."
The boat circles. Others join in and form rings.
"Sgt. Collins," said the Sgt. Major. "Looks like you are the ranking officer for the time being."
"I want you to get your men up that beach as quickly as you can and grab some cover. Dig in and get that mortar and machinegun ready to fire into the jungle."
"Meanwhile, you radio back here and let them know what kind of resistance we are seeing."
"After you get that done, well, that's when you Devil's can start doing your fancy shit."
The Sgt. Major then turns his back on the Devil's Own and begins instructing his own men.
The landing boats break from their rings and finally fan out into a broad line. It looks like there are about a dozen or so craft in the first wave.
Once pointed towards the shore, the speed of the craft picks up. The craft lurches forward, a frothing wake forms behind as the craft heads to the shore of the enemy.
"Gentlemen!" the Sgt. Major yells to everyone. "Today is 7th August 1942, and America's first offensive in World War II is now underway! Welcome to the history books!"
As the ramp splashes down into the water, the soldiers get the briefest of glimpses of the beach. The hundred yards of clear beach seems to stretch out to much, MUCH more before the relative safety of the treeline.

The two inch thick wall of sand leaps up out of the water, flapping in midair like a cotton sheet hanging from a clotheline, completely ignoring the fact that it's 500 pounds of sand. A private who bears a striking resemblance to charlie brown asks "What happens if this margic carpet of your hits a land mine?"

Bogdin's very determined look snaps into a very blank one.

Carl, overhearing this, shrugs and takes his first step into the surfing, "... the rockets red glaaaare..."
Lenny takes a short drag on his cigarette and mumbles to nobody in particular, "God I hope I brought enough smokes."
He pats down his gear for the 17th time in the last 18 seconds, touching the grenades to make sure they haven't moved.
"Let's get this show on the road, ladies!" he yells as he moves into position behind Carson.

Dimwiddle peers over the top of the earthen burm that has suddenly appeared in front of him. "Now that's exactly what I wanted to see! Excellent show Bogger ol' boy." He looks out at the beach scanning for enemies and occasionally glancing around at his comrades to make sure they see him looking confident.
Willie is right at the gate as it drops, murmuring to himself "Yer bulletproof, yer bulletproof, yer bulletproof" Then he pauses "Shit, wonder if they have flamethrowers. Didn't think of that..."

Fix checks his gear, again, hitches up his pants, and looks at lenny. "Don't worry about the smokes buddy, I fixed a shitload of radios and other shit on the boat, that's all the guys had to trade, I got extras for ya..."
The gate drops.
Rebound takes one step forward and then something flies past him into the surf, spraying up water like a rooster's tail.
The "Star Spangled Banner" is blaring as Hollywood steps forward and the cool waters soak into his pants above his boots.
Men rush forward dogding around curtain of sand floating in the air like wet sheets on a clothes line. Their eyes squint toward the treeline up the sandy beach. But they see nothing.
Suddenly, a cloud of sand kicks up. A blur moves through a coconut grove and up the to the line of the jungle. The speeding Marines green uniform is about all that can be made out as it rounds the treeline and heads back into the surf.
Lenny hits the water and skips three times like a stone before splashing into the knee deep water and going under. Marines are there to pull him up.
Spitting up sea water and with a damp cigarette still dangling from his lip, Lenny stands.
"There's nobody here," he says.

[cssmythe3]

Bogdin sat in a foxhole at the edge of the forest, stitching up a laceration on the skull of a jarhead who slipped on the way out of the boat and clipped his forehead on the edge of the landing ramp.

"You know, I took this zoology class, and the professor told a story about a lizard from Central America. A basilik something - I can't quite remember. Just like Lenny. There ya go, all done."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwIiPa0IakY

[countrysamurai]

On the Beach of Guadalcanal
ìIt seems the war began and nobody told the Japs,î said the Sgt. Major as he walked ashore and lit a new cigar. ìSgt. Collins, radio in that we have the beach.î
The orders come back that Devilís Own are to secure the beach and dig in while the Marine Raiders are to go in and scout towards the airfield.
It seems only five minutes pass before someone is screaming ìCorpsman!î But itís not the enemy or even a booby trap. Just one Marine who almost lost a hand trying to use a machete to open a coconut from the plantation near the beach. ìBoggieî reattaches the limb without a problem. He then makes quick work of digging foxholes and erecting a defensive ridge inside the tree line.
Gunshots rang out and everyone scrabbles for cover and a weapon. But it was just a marine trying to get some fresh meat for dinner. The bullet riddled wild pig was dragged out of the underbrush.
The squad started to get bored watching the landing craft come in when someone noticed, ìhey, are the ships leaving?î In fact they were and an hour passed before you could figure out why.
The antiaircraft gun fired before the 30 twin-engine Mitsubishi ìBettysî and their fighter escorts were visible. The Wildcats from the carriers Enterprise and Saratoga rose into battle.
It all played out very far off shore. Little could be seen or done. The last landing boats arrived and Marines from those boats talked about the panicking swabbies. A number of Marines and most of the supplies were still on those boats when they cut and ran, they told you.

The night on the beach was unnerving. Jungle birds screeched in trees and the tunneling operations of crabs under the sand kept everyone up.

The following day, the Marines moved in and took the airfield. The Japs left it in a hurry. Rice was still cooking in a big pot on the fire. Kerosene lanterns were still burning. The food shed was filled with bags of rice, canned meat, dried fish and dried fruit and for some reason, an ice machine.
That was the good news.
Over the next few days, the bad news followed, leaked out by members of Vandegrift's staff.

The carriers had been withdrawn because a Jap fleet was coming, they say. The transports pulled out, following the carriers. They took with them about 1,400 Marines who didnít have time to debark and, oh yeah, about half of your supplies.

For those keeping track, they left a third of this invasionís supplies on the docks in New Zealand. Which means, youíve got about 1/3 of the food, ammo, etc. that you should.
Youíve got one bulldozer on the island.
One.
Fortunately, the Japs left behind a few and Collins can figure them out.
Operations Shoestring is really starting to live up to its name.
Capturing Guadalcanal was a cakewalk. Holding it is the real problem.

[cssmythe3]

[doc rock]

"Look, do you want me to move rocks out of the newly dug trenchs, cover mines being put out on the beach by the engineers with sand, one is in that direction, the other over there, I can't be in two places at ..."

Bogdin's voice trailed off as his eyes caught the contraption that chugged passed him on the road. Some japanese truck had been converted into a bulldozer by a bizarre mating with a crane winch commandered from a warehouse, some girders, and what was obviously the wing of a Zero pressed into service as the blade.

"I'm sorry corporal, I got distracted there. I've already covered up three of the log rifle pits on the end of the airstrip with stone to camoflage them even more. I've got to find my CO before I go do any of the chores you'd like, I'm pretty sure he's responsible for that 'truck'" that just went by, so I'm going to head back in the direction he came from."

[diablorojo]

Vance Dimwiddle walks calmly among the foxholes, stopping occasionally to give advice to a marine or two who look like they need a morale boost.
"Well, obviously the Japs realized they didn't stand a chance against a squad of such marvalous American talents," he said to two young marines who had been wondering aloud why they had not yet met any resistance. He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans close to one of the two young men. "Confidentially, I'm pretty sure the skipper of our transport let it slip over the radio that I was on board. The name of Dimwiddle carries a lot of cache, even among all these Godless heathens in the south Pacific."

Dimwiddle wanders off sporting an abnormally large grin and humming a classic Irving Berlin song. The two marines look at each other with puzzled faces. "Maybe he hit his head or something when we landed," one of them finally says.

[countrysamurai]

They renamed it Henderson Field in honor of a Marine pilot who bought the farm at Midway. To the Devil's Own, it pretty much became home.
"Pvt. Boggie and Sgt. Fix" became known by every Marine on the island. They were kept busy from dawn to dusk.
Only one bulldozer made it off of the boats before they skipped out. That one belonged to Marine 1st Pioneer Battalion Pvt. Roy C. Cate. He was a superstitious one, Pvt. Cate. Nobody touched his 'dozer. He did ask Sgt. Collins for some advice about a stick in the gear box. Just by listening to it, Collins figured out the problem and recommended a fix.
"Do that boyo, an she's libel to run 'til this war ends. That is one fine piece of machinary," Collins said.
Collins built his own bulldozer out of spare Japanese parts, but it got so complicated that only he could operate it. And while he's great at building, he's not so great at driving. He converted the machine into a grader, which seemed more useful.
All day, every day, Collins and Cate worked on the air strip. The only break was "Tojo Time" the daily shelling and straffing of the airfield by Japanese planes. They did their best to undo the Marines' hard work at noon every day.
Pvt. Boggie was also being run ragged. If he wasn't fixing up some Marine, he was moving a whole lot of sand. There was nothing fancy about the fortifications. There weren't the supplies for anything fancy. There were 18 spools of barbed wire on the whole island.
Since he was redecorating half of the beach, Pvt. Boggie met a lot of people. Plans for fortifications were explained to him by Lt. Col. Samuel B. Griffeth.
A couple days after the landing, he got to patch up "Pug" Southerland, a Wildcat pilot shot down over the island on D-Day.
"I had him in my sights," Southerland said of the Zero that shot him down. "But my goddamn guns weren't working." He had bullet wounds in the left foot, right shoulder and left leg.
The rest of the Devil's Own got to meet some new people as well. First came Ensign Franklin Wolensky from Baltimore. He called himself Pinball but Marines called him Super Swabbie. His ship, the USS Barton got blown to bits north of the island, but Wolensky wasn't. "Force fields," he said. "You know, like in the magazines? Amazing Stories?"
A few days after that some Marines make it over from some of the neighboring islands, among them is a new battle-tested talent superiors have selected to lead this band of brothers.

[Hobbie]

I ask the first Marine I run across in the area, "Where's the TOC and who's the C.O here?" After glancing around the field I follow up with, "Is this everything? Do we have a BAR or a Nip FG 42 to put on that dozer?"

I'll ask around for the Skipper, or the next ranking C.O. and look for the Top. As soon as I find the TOC, I'll stowe my ruck; kepping my weapon, ammo, and brainpan on me at all times.

Note: My brightwork is muted or taken off altogether.

[countrysamurai]

They do a pretty good job of bringing you up to speed on what's going on. They explain that the SIS has been helping on the top priority job which is getting the airstrip open. Their abilities to repair machinary and move ground have proven critical.
They tell you how short supplies are. The tell you that they probably do have a BAR for the dozer if you want. Talk to Sgt. "Fix" Collins about mounting it.
Do you want an escort over to where they are supposed to be working or do you just want to find them yourself by the airstrip?

[Hobbie]

"I'd like an escort," pulls out small notepad and looks over list with pencil in hand, "What Marines are at the airfield--I've just come over to this Island and only have a partial list."

[cssmythe3]

Bogdin is lying underneath a makeshift lean-to, in the shade, and far enough away from the airfield to be safe if the daily bombing goes off ahead of schedule. He's got a wet towel draped over his head. He's got a splitting headache, resting from creating a few thousand 2 inch long stone spikes in underbrush along various avenues of possible japanese infantry approach.

Carl paces back and forth nearby. Gesticulating as he goes:

"So then the british sailor knocks out the pirate sentry, and puts on his jacket and hat. He WALKS RIGHT INTO the powder store the pirates have on the island, sets a fuse, and blows it all sky high! Okay, now get this: I found a pile of japanese uniforms, and one that fits. So here's the plan, I dress up like a Jap, or maybe Lenny does 'cause he can get behind there lines easy. Yeah, Lenny could do it, he could walk into a pack of 'em, drops a pair of grenades at their feet, and ZOOM right out before they go off. That would teach those bastards, eh?"

Without stirring from under his towel: "Ever heard of the Geneva conventions? They say if you are in a war dressed in your uniform, and you get caught, you get food, water, and all you have to tell your captors is your namme, rank and serial number. If you are dressed as a civilian, and moreso if you dressed up as one of the enemy, then you're a spy. Then anything goes, torture, maiming, whatever. You've been 'dishonorable' and so you've lost all your rights."

Carl pauses, but then continues...
"You think these guys are gonna follow your convention? One of the swabbies back on the transport had these pictures of what the Japs were doing to some of the prisoners of war - man they were sick. Chopping 'em up like cattle at a slaughterhouse with their curving swords." Carl proceeds with some overly dramatic gesticulation. "These guys ain't human."

[countrysamurai]

"I'd like an escort," pulls out small notepad and looks over list with pencil in hand, "What Marines are at the airfield--I've just come over to this Island and only have a partial list."

You get an escort and the following list of SIS Marines
Pvt. Leonard Syskowski sniper speedster
Pvt. William "Willie" Carson, kenetic energy dampener talent,
Sgt. Joseph Collins, aka 'The Fix': Improvisational Repair talent, radioman
Pvt. Vance Dimwiddle III instant death talent when attacked.
Pvt. Carl Franklin movie star talent, engineer
Pvt. Bogdin Abrahamovich stone scultor & healer talent corpsman.

[cssmythe3]

"Izat? Shit! Lenny, lenny, wake up, its an officer! A marine officer, this has got to be our CO!" Carl snaps to attention and throws an over-eager salute.

As Lt Regan walks into the small clearing the Devil's has setup as their private reserve. Small stone statues are in a pile off to one side - bodgin has been working on his scuplting skills. Bailing wire, fuses, and empty acytelene tanks are lined up neatly across the clearing. Collins is saving them for _something_.

Bogdin shakes off his nap and wearily comes to attention. "Lt., it's good to see you, safe to assume you're our new CO?" (Regan nods curtly) "Thank god, our ad hoc CO has his head inside broken things so often, and I've been dragged from one end of the island to the other by Lt. Col Griffeth..."

[mteague]

Rebound has vanished for teh last several hours, goldbricking as much as possible, staying out of sight of guys giving orders in order to avoid what he considers "dumass shitwork"

Collins walks up, covered in grease and grime with a grin on his face. Shifting his wrench to his left, he extends his right for a handshake.
"you must be that new officer I heard tell aboot. Me name's Sgt Collins, but everone just calls me 'Fix'"
He sheepishly pulls his hand back and snaps off something of a salute.
"shit, sorry Lieutenant, sir..."
"I'd hang around but somewhere around here is a Colonel screaming for my help"
He walks away, muttering to himself "hot Damn, I aint in charge no more! Not that these misfits ever listened anyway..."

[diablorojo]

Lenny is lying in the Devil's Own rest area listening to Bogdin and Carl debate the Geneva Convention and whether he should put on a Jap uniform and sneak behind enemy lines.

"I hear the Japs don't smoke. I walk in there with with a smoke in my lips and they're gonna peg me for American in a second.," he said, leaning up on one elbow and speaking faster than most people think. His words begin to blur together like an auctioneer trying to sell cattle at a county fair. "No cigarette means no speed and no speed means no Lenny. Not-to-mention-the-fact-that-I'm-Polish-and-don't-exactly-have-the-right-complextion-or-eye-shape-for-the-job!"

When he hears the phrase "Marine Officer" Lenny bolts upward so fast that his feet actually leave the ground when he salutes.

"SirPrivateLeonardSyskowskiSir!" he says so quickly that it is nearly unintelligible.

[Hobbie]

Returns salute while looking over the Marines present, "So what's your name Marine?"

Smiles at Sgt Collins, "It's all right fix," returns salute and extends hand.

After response I follow up with, "I'm Lt. Regan. I want the men to muster here so we can get acquainted and I can get a better idea of our equipment status and combat preparedness. More importantly," looks over notes, "I'd like to know you are capable of--like what the hell does energy dampner mean," smiles.

"Also, I'd like a full ammo and weapon count."

Extends hand to corpsman as well, "I'd also like a medical supply inventory and some idea on the general health of the Marines."

Looks back at Sgt. Collins, "So I take it you're my senior NCO? How long you been in?"