Guadalcanal Diary Page #3

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- Hard to say. Several thousand.

- Any natives?

- About 16,000.

- Uh... cannibals?

- No, l believe they"re strict vegetarians.

But then of course

they"ve never tasted marine meat.

Don"t worry. Perhaps we"ll land on Friday.

- Well, Chick, looks like it won"t be long now.

- Looks that way.

- Tomorrow morning maybe, eh?

- Maybe.

Hey, Taxi, what time is it

back home now anyway?

- How many hours" difference is there?

- 19 between here and San Francisco.

And three more to home.

But l never can tell which way it is.

That"s the trouble with me too. l can never tell

whether it"s yesterday or tomorrow.

- Would you like to hold him a while?

- Sure.

- Take it easy, boy. l"ll see you later, kid.

- Yeah, so long.

- Geting bald?

- lt"s beginning to look that way.

- How will Edith like that?

- She won"t.

By the way, if you need any hair restorer

l have an ample supply. A going-away gift.

What do you suppose

they"re doing about now?

Sleeping, l hope.

Quite a difference to the days

when l sat in your class

and listened to you propound

the great philosophies of the world.

l don"t know. Philosophy might

come in pretty handy these days.

Jim. How do you feel?

Scared?

l suppose so.

l try to look at it as just ajob, like selling

a big order when there"s sales resistance.

Funny that we two should end up like this.

The first two companies in.

- Three to one says my outfit lands first.

- Three coconuts to two says you don"t.

Good.

lt"s odd we haven"t been atacked

by a submarine. Surely they spoted us.

Yes, it is rather odd.

Couldn"t be a trap, could it?

By the way, we ought to be there by morning.

l hear the zero hour should be about 6.20.

Approximately.

l"d say the landing would be nearer 8.30.

- Beter not go ashore with the first wave.

- And why not?

That"s when l"ll be needed the most, isn"t it?

l guess l"d beter look down below

and see if anybody"s got the jiters.

And now at last the great day itself:

Friday August 7th, 1942.

The day for which we"ve trained so long.

The day of landing.

There"s none of the gaiety and song

which filled the few preceding days.

Every nerve taut.

Perhaps this is because the thing

that"s happening seems like a dream.

Here and there a man wets his lips.

Breathing is a little harder.

Waiting, eyes strained.

Field glasses pointing toward that high,

irregular mass lying beyond the water.

Toward Guadalcanal.

Well, there she is.

We must have almost passed their bateries.

- Either it"s a trick or they"re awful dumb.

- lf it works out, it"ll make a swell story.

Let"s not think of it any other way.

lt"s got to work.

- Well, Sarge, looks like this is it.

- Yeah.

Unbuckle your chin straps

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