CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE – Part Two
Operation SEXTANT
Marines, with their built-in sense of order and discipline, should really be running the world. – Lord Mountbatten
November 28, 1942
0530 local time
South China Sea, off the coast of Formosa
The air was alive with a rolling, thunderous clamour, compliments of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The roaring flight of naval artillery travelling inland was met with the crackle and bursting of the deadly rumble of Japanese artillery seeking the ships of the Fleet and the smaller assault craft approaching the beach. Under and through this cacophony of deadly projectiles raced hundreds of amphibious assault craft and landing boats carrying thousands of Royal Marines toward the beaches of southern Formosa. As great fountains of water exploded upward to mark the impact of a Japanese shell with the ocean’s waves, and occasionally an assault launch loaded with Royal Marines, angry red and sickly green luminous lights that marked the path of light caliber cannon and machine gun fire from the Fleet and from Japanese gunners hidden upon the beach spun about the air crackling and whining as they pierced the sound barrier, struck metal or flesh or ricocheted off some other object..
Near the leading edge of the first wave of the Royal Marine assault raced an amphibious assault craft that had been named
Devil’s Darlings by the Royal Marines who rode within the vessel. Among the Royal Marines upon
Devil’s Darlings was Major William Creighton, executive officer of 3 Battalion and company commander of D Company of the Queen’s Own Royal Marines Regiment, who was no longer bothered with the strenuous wait for the invasion to begin. No, at this point Creighton was more concerned with keeping his mind and the minds of marines off the statistical probability that
Devil’s Darlings would be struck by Japanese artillery and never make it to the beach in one piece. An exploding artillery shell, fired from a 6-inch gun Creighton guessed by the size of the geyser that erupted skyward, impacted to the left of his assault craft and not only set the amphibious tractor rocking but also inundated the vessel with seawater.
Spitting out a mouthful of the salty water, Creighton crawled up next to the coxswain of the assault boat and the machine gunner happily blazing away at the beach to get a better look his destination. Well, that just increased our odds a tad bit, he thought to himself as he forced his mind to away from those odds by recalling the overview of the invasion plan. SEXTANT, as planned, called for the twenty regiments of the three Royal Marine Expeditionary Units to land in three separate locations on Taiwan's southern coast between the Hengchun Peninsula in the south to the beaches north of the town of Tainan.
“Major, would you step down, please,” the coxswain growled respectfully after delivering a not so soft punch to Creighton’s thigh.
“What’s your concern, PO,” the Royal Marine replied with a grunt to the petty officer,
“that I might be drawing fire from the Japanese? Hell, man, this stinking metal tub is a far larger bloody target!”
Several wet, meaty thwacks and a sudden silencing of
Devil’s Darlings’ aft machine gun gave pause to the sailor and marine alike. A quick glance by both men confirmed that the Royal Marine manning the gun had been hit by incoming Japanese fire, and that the large bloody holes that had been torn in the man’s torso made the need to render aid useless. With a pointed look to Creighton, the petty officer replied to the posed question.
“Yer not drawin’ fire, sir, ye were blockin’ my fuckin’ view of the goddamn beach, sir!”
“Ah. Right,” Creighton grunted sheepishly. Jumping down from his position, he gestured toward two marines close by.
“McPherson, Edwards! Clear that man from that machine gun and then one of you man it! I want all the incoming fire on that beach we can create!”
Not bothering to watch to see if the two responded, knowing that they would, he started to make his way forward to the bow of the assault craft, intending on being one of the first men off the boat as soon as they reached the beach. Reaching a point nearly two hundred yards from the beach Creighton cringed and grimaced as an assault craft to the right of his own, the one holding his battalion commander and the regimental command staff took a direct hit from a large Japanese artillery shell, the little boat simply disappearing in the huge geyser of water that suddenly erupted.
Bloody Hell, he cursed vehemently to himself as he watched fragments of machine and men come cascading down with the tower of water. He had lost every commanding officer during the opening moments of all four beach landings the Royal Marines conducted, he briefly wondered if he was bad luck or if it was simply a matter of those men having the bad luck.
Moments later
Devil’s Darlings ground to a sudden stop, a deep crunching sound from beneath the boat contrasting with the higher pitched loud clangs marking the impact of Japanese small arm fire upon the gunwales. The Japanese were clearly contesting the arrival of the Royal Marines. The Royal Navy coxswain, after feverishly working the throttle and wheel in an attempt to get
Devil’s Darlings moving again, screamed out,
“We’re fuckin’ hung up on somethin’! Get the bloody hell out, you fuckin’ Bootnecks!”
As more small arms fire struck the craft, Creighton bellowed heatedly,
“You heard the PO, lads! Time to earn the King’s shilling, so hit the bloody beach!”
Again not waiting to see if any of his men would follow or not, he clambered up and flung himself over the side of
Devil’s Darlings, landing in water that reached just above his waist. This meant that he and his men had about a twenty yard hike through a sea that was choppy with waves rising between two and four feet. Not at all what had been planned, but being accustomed to such conditions, that fact was ignored by Creighton and the men who followed him out of
Devil’s Darlings as they charged forward against the surf and fired their weapons when they were able.
Reaching a point where the water was only up their knees, but appeared far deeper due to their crouching low to avoid what Japanese fire they could, Creighton and his headquarters squad desperately sought some form of substantial cover for themselves higher upon the beach when the assault launch of one of his company commanders, Captain MacInnes, caught itself upon a underwater obstacle. Leaping to the gunwale and flashing his pistol in the air like a cavalryman’s sword, Creighton heard MacInnes bellow,
“Come on, lads! Up and at those bloody bastards!"
A swarm of bullets from a Japanese pillbox at that moment zeroed in upon MacInnes, shredding his body and tossing his corpse into the bloody water. Growling in frustration at the death, Creighton was amazed as the twelve Marines within the boat screamed in rage at MacInnes death and charged from their craft to assault the emplacement. In the time it took for Creighton and his men to get out of the water the assaulting marines had reached the pillbox, leaving eight of their number sprawled upon the beach bleeding from multiple gruesome wounds, and had destroyed the emplacement with a pair of satchel charges.
Quickly flinging themselves against the remains of the blasted pillbox and waiting for a chance to fire back upon the pair of Japanese machine gun nests that started spraying their position with bullets, Creighton and his men watched as more assault craft approaching the beach and more geysers of water erupting into the air as the Japanese began to full react to the British assault.
“What a bloody mess,” Creighton growled aloud as he glanced around the edge of the pillbox and looked at the Japanese defenses. That momentary look allowed the marine officer to see at least twelve different machine gun nests creating an effective cross fire that would allow the Royal Marines to land on the beach but move no further. Such a defensive strategy was dangerous as it would force the landing troops to cluster together on the beach and be far more susceptible to artillery fire. It would also prohibit the Royal Marines from achieving any of their initial objectives and delay the timetables for the follow up waves of reinforcements.
Pulling his head back around, chased by chips of coral and stone as a Japanese gunner took aim at his exposed head, Creighton cursed under his breath and pulled a map of the beach from his case. Without looking up from the map and ignoring the incoming artillery and mortar fire that began landing on the beaches he called out for the young lieutenant that had been aboard
Devil’s Darlings.
“Richardson! Have any of the other company commanders or our platoon leaders reported in?”
Not hearing a response, Creighton looked up with a scowl but could not see the young lieutenant within his line of sight.
“Richardson! Where the hell is Leftenant Richardson?”
“He’s scattered about the beach, Major,” Cooper replied as he fired assault rifle blinding in the direction of a Japanese machine gun nest.
“Fuckin’ mortar round took a dislike to his freshness as he crawled out of the surf.”
“Damn,” Creighton grumbled as he looked away from Cooper and looked for his wireless operator. Spotting the man and his assistant a few yards away beside a smoking amphibious tractor, he folded up his map and spoke to Cooper and the four marines that had followed MacInnes.
“Cover me, lads, I need to take a jaunt over to where Rutherford is holed up.”
Bursting from behind the pillbox in a crouching run, one hand atop his helmet and his other hand gripping is assault rifle, while the five marines fired a spray of fire forcing the nearest Japanese gunners to duck for cover, Creighton sprinted over the sand and ended his run with a rolling dive that ended with him on his back and at the feet of his wireless team.
“Morning, Major,” Rutherford said dryly with a battered cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Morning, Rock,” Creighton replied as he sat up. Pulling his lighter from a pocket and lighting the battered cigarette, he continued,
“Who’s reported in so far?”
“Everyone’s ashore,” Rutherford replied after taking a deep drag from the cigarette,
“except for those that didn’t make it out of the water. All companies and platoons have landed on their appointed beaches, but haven’t been able to make it much further inland.”
“Anyone have any particular problems?”
“Leftenant Powell has taken over B Company and reports that they’re pinned down by a Japanese strong point.”
“Captain Turner,” Creighton asked simply.
“Per Powell he’s about thirty yards from the guns but he doesn’t know if he’s pinned down or dead, sir,” Rutherford reported stonily.
“And this strong point, what is Powell evaluation of it?”
“His words are that it’s as bad as the pillboxes Jerry had on the Rhine, sir,” Rutherford answered.
“There is at least one heavy anti-aircraft gun, the Leftenant is guessing that it’s a Type 88 75mm, and four or five 20mm guns with half a dozen heavy machine guns in support of the bunker itself.”
“Right, it’s time to get off this bloody beach, Rock. Signal Regiment that we need that pillbox taken out or we’re going to be here the rest of the day. If you cannot reach Regiment, try to reach one of those destroyers out there for some bloody assistance.”
“Aye-aye, Major,” the wireless operator replied as he tossed his cigarette aside and began working with his assistant, McElwee, to fulfill Creighton’s orders.
“And you, sir?”
For his part, Creighton pulled his map back out along with a grease pencil and standing up to look up and down the beach, began marking pillbox locations in anticipation of calling in artillery support.
“I’m going to find a route to the nearest bar so I can try some of this Japanese rice beer.”
Only a few moments into his activity Creighton saw out of the corner of his eye both Rutherford and McElwee suddenly stiffen. Turning to find out the reason, Creighton was surprised to see his battalion commanding officer, Brigadier Giles Rawne, strolling toward his position, his rifle carried in the crook of his arm as if he were on a hunt in the English countryside rather than taking fire from enemy machine guns while assaulting an enemy beach. As the sand around the Brigadier and his two man staff began to be flung skyward from the impact of rifle and machine gun bullets, the three men calmly reached the relative safety of the burning amphibious tractor.
Returning the hasty salutes directed his way with a casual one of his own, Rawne withdrew his pipe from his mouth and after blowing out a small cloud of smoke greeted Creighton and his men.
“Good morning, Major Creighton. You seem very exposed here in this spot. Do you have a death wish, son?”
“No sir,” Creighton replied, recalling a nearly similar conversation he had with Rawne upon a beach in Denmark several years ago and has he had then, refraining to mention that the Rawne was making himself just as exposed by standing calmly with bullets crackling by.
“I was recalling an old sergeant telling me that the bullet that has your name on it will find you no matter what you do and a certain Major reminding me that I should also be concerned about the bullet that is addressed ‘to whom it may concern’, for that was the one that would ruin my day.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Rawne looked at Creighton with grim humour.
“Is that your way of suggesting this old Marine should be getting his bloody head down because he is drawing fire upon your position?”
“Your words, Brigadier, your words,” Creighton replied as the scream of incoming artillery drew near. Not waiting for Rawne to react, Creighton leaped up from the crouch he had lowered himself to while speaking with the Brigadier and hauled the other officer down to the ground. The two men of his staff also dove for the ground as the incoming rounds impacting thunderously and deadly debris screaming skyward a breath later.
Brushing off sand from his shoulders as he and Creighton rolled back to a crouch, Rawne miffed,
“That was a tad close, by God. In any event, I wanted to get word to you about a change I’m making in 3 Battalion’s orders.”
“I know you saw Colonel Scott and his amphib take that direct hit,” Rawne continued without pause,
“so you already know that as of then you are commanding officer of 3 Battalion. This conversation simply makes it official.”
“Aye, sir,” Creighton replied, shoving aside the pain at the loss of his friend.
Pulling out his own make and spreading it out between himself and Creighton, Rawne continued.
“Now for your new orders. You know that our orders from on high are to capture, occupy and defend and develop the western coastal plain of Formosa south of an east-west line through Tainan. Third RMEU is ashore north of Tainan, Second RMEU is making on shore just south of Fangliao. Ourselves and the rest of the First RMEU are scattered between Fangliao and the Ai River at Kaohsiung.
“We are no longer tasked with assisting in securing Kaoshiung,” Rawne grimaced as a mortar round landed close to an assault craft disgorging a platoon of troops, felling several and kicking up debris that dropped a handful more. Looking back to Creighton, he pointed at the map.
“The Regiment has been ordered to skirt the suburbs of Kaohsiung and march north to secure the railhead at Pingtung City. Your battalion is leading the assault, Major. Any questions?”
Looking up from the map Creighton shot a look at the lay of the land on the far side of the seawall that ran directly behind the pillbox he had just come from, wincing as he watched a marine flung to the ground after throwing a grenade, his blood turning the sand beneath him pink. It was going to be a bloody task fulfilling those orders.
“I’ll let you know, Brigadier, once I get my battalion off this bloody beach.”
“You do that, m’lad,” Rawne said as he thumped Creighton on the shoulder.
“I’ll touch catch up with you after I’ve spoken with Galligan of 5 Battalion.”
Not waiting for a reply the Brigadier stood up, collected his two staffers, and calmly trotted out from behind the still smoking amphib heading further up the beach. Marveling at both the aplomb with which Rawne handled the chaos of the battlefield and the luck the man had in doing so unscathed by the myriad of deadly projectiles hurling about the beach, Creighton looked away to Rutherford.
“Alert the rest of the battalion of our new orders, Rock and then meet me over by Cooper. Time to get off this bloody beach.”
**
Up Next: He keeps saying that it's time to get off the beach but the question remains, can he do so and will he do so?
Stay tuned to find out...
