Charles Taylor - Show of Force

Nothing was going right. David.saw through his binoculars how the landing party almost made the tree line, only to fall back from what was probably machine-gun fire. That's when Jorge had first called him. "Goddamn, David. What are they waiting for? I need a couple of well-placed shells. That's all. They just have fifty calibers now, and we can move in if you'll help." He had said that word— you. David could do nothing but watch.

He called the Bagley. "Captain, Jorge says he can move his men into safety if we can just hit those machine guns."

"I can see that, David," came the response.

"Just five shots, Captain. One gun. I'll have you on target after the first two." He paused. "They're being torn apart, sir."

"Remember what I said, David." The voice was firm, and David remembered.

Overhead, well offshore and at a high, safe altitude, the 82nd Airborne sat on benches in full battle gear while the huge aircraft that carried them circled a preplanned point in the sky. David looked at the armada beginning a few thousand yards away. Squadrons of fast little destroyers, old ones like the Bagley and new ones with missiles pointed skyward, steamed back and forth in neat squares. Behind them were the amphibians, ungainly ships with holds full of marines, tanks, trucks, food, and ammunition. He could see three cruisers set farther back, because their giant guns could throw larger shells greater distances to cause more devastation. And, out beyond the two small carriers they had escorted down the Atlantic coast, he could see the huge island of the Enterprise, whose planes could clear a path to safety for Jorge and his men in a few short minutes.

Up and down the beach he had seen the same thing happening to Jorge's comrades, the race up the beach toward the trees, the faltering as more men began to fall, the regrouping as they came together in their retreat, and then another race up the beach. David was sure some of them hardly had the chance to fire their own guns. Amid the chaos, Jorge was quiet and his calmness deceptive. "David, can you tell me what your captain has said?"

David could only explain what he was told.

"If we don't get support soon, they will have time to bring up their heavy guns, and then they will slaughter us. All I want you to do is ask for a chance. Ask.Captain Carter to radio to his commanders what is happening. Perhaps that will help. Better yet, tell him we don't need planes or even paratroops. If they'll just give us some fire support, we'll move in and join with the other groups. Just tell them that."

Twice he called Carter with Melendez's requests and each time he received the same answer. Then the defenders were able to move in the larger guns. At first, their shot was erratic. They needed spotters of their own. But once they learned where their shells were falling, they became more accurate. Soon the little groups on the beach were shattered.

First it was just one man, running back to the water. David saw him race almost directly toward his whaleboat. The water was shallow and he seemed to stop for a moment when he was up to his knees, faltered and then fell forward. Others were luckier. They got far enough out so they could swim, but some were unlucky enough to have misplaced shells land near them.

Another call from Jorge: "David, I am having trouble keeping my men together. Some of the other teams have already been wiped out or are trying to get back in the water. I don't think I can keep my men together for long.…" Then his voice stopped.

David looked up quickly through the binoculars and saw that a shell had landed near the group around Melendez. Some died in the air, others lay still where they had fallen, and David saw some get up and move quickly to another crater in the beach.

Then there was a high, loud whistling sound. Instinctively, the men in the boat threw themselves to the deck. A shell landed near enough to shake the boat as it exploded with an ear-shattering sound, more frightening than the impact itself. They were showered with water.

"Get the hell out of there, David," came Carter's voice over the radio.

"I can't yet, Captain. I've lost contact with Jorge."

"You are responsible for the men in your boat. You will take evasive action and you will return them safely to the ship," Carter responded firmly. Another shell landed near them, not as closely as before, but on the other side and close enough to bring from Carter, "Damn it, David, move that boat. They've got your range."

Palmer, who had been face down in the boat after the last explosion, returned to the tiller quickly, looking up at David. For just a second he hesitated, then said, "Turn into the beach. Make your own course."

"But, sir…"

He was cut off by David. "They'll expect us to turn out. Move," he shouted.

It took just a second for the rudder of the small craft to respond, and then it swung toward the beach. It had moved only thirty yards or so when another shell whistled overhead, landing this time where the whaleboat might have been had they turned toward Bagley. Palmer looked over at the young ensign and nodded, offering a thumbs-up approval.

After they had gone about a hundred yards, David ordered the whaleboat back on its original course so he could concentrate on the group ashore. As he put his binoculars to his eyes, he told Palmer, "They're going to keep trying to pinpoint us. Zigzag whenever you want, but for Christ's sake sound off before you do!"

He tried to call Melendez on his radio, first on the private circuit, then on the secondary, but there was no answer. He looked back to the beach where he had last seen them and thought he caught sight of the man for a second. They were that much closer so he could make but faces a bit better. A man waved out to him frantically from among a group crouched in a hole blasted in the sand. A few were firing their rifles toward the palm-tree area. But many more were not moving at all. He recognized Jorge as the one who had waved. Obviously, the last shell had knocked out his radio.

"Mr. Charles, we're not supposed to be this close," a voice called to him as another explosion bracketed their little boat. "I heard the captain ask us to come back." It was one of the seamen sent along in the party to assist Palmer. He was crouched in the bottom of the whaleboat, making himself as small as possible, a terrified look in his eyes.

David paid no attention to him. Palmer shouted just before he threw the rudder over and the boat heeled in the direction of the shore as it reversed course. David put the binoculars to his eyes again, trying to see what the men on land were doing as the boat rocked wildly on its new track. Two. of the men beside Melendez leaped up to run toward the water. The sand around them lifted in lazy puffs as the machine-gun bullets bit in. The one who was running the safer zigzag was the first one to be hit. The other, probably in terror, simply raced toward the water, somehow avoiding the bullets that became little spurts of water as he splashed in. When he was a little over ankle deep, he dove, landing on his belly in the too-shallow water. Realizing he way still not far enough out, he rose first to his knees, then stood up to run again. It was then that the hidden gunner brought him down.

David dropped the binoculars to his chest and looked back at Palmer, who had also been watching. They had gradually gotten close enough to the beach so that the other men didn't need the glasses to see what was happening.

The sailor who had first called to him now shouted wildly, "We've got to get out of here, sir. We're not supposed to be here by ourselves." This time he stood up, rocking the whaleboat even more violently than it already was. David looked back at Palmer, pointing at the sailor and mouthed unheard words as another shell showered them with water. Palmer simply yelled something to the engineman who calmly reached for a canteen that had fallen loose in the bottom of the boat. He stood for just a moment as he swung the canteen behind his shoulder, then brought it down on the sailor's head. He cushioned the falling body to avoid it hitting the edge of the boat.