Submitted for The 6-Pack Challenge - Round 2: History in Action
Prompt details here: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/ssoRd7YROE

"Tennōheika..." screamed the enemy officer, as the first volleys of artillery fire burst along the eastern flank of the Abucay-Mauban Line. He led the charge, the noonday sun reflecting off the blade of his guntō.

"Banzai!" shouted the hostile troops in unison, as they rushed headlong towards our barbed wire defenses.

The first Japanese troops to make it to the double-apron fence collapsed on it and died there. Their corpses formed a bridge for their comrades to rush over.

Less than a fortnight ago, I was in a plush cinema in downtown Manila watching Gary Cooper rout a company of Deutsches Heer single-handed in Sergeant York. The screening was jam packed, a full house of G.I.s psyching ourselves for the battle ahead. Now, in the thick of it, that celluloid power fantasy seemed like a million years away.

As fate would have it, the USAFFE Polar Bears and the 41st Infantry Division of the Philippine Army made a half-decent force. We weren't the toughest bunch around but damned if we weren't scrappy motherfuckers. The little jungle fellows were practically armed with Uncle Sam's hand-me-downs — leftover Springfields and Enfields from the Great War — so it was on my squad to hold the line.

With a nod, I signaled the Beta unit to ramp up fire support. Private Rasmussen loaded the ammo into the M1917 Browning machine gun, ignoring the mosquitoes that buzzed near his ears. PFC Kurtzberg kept a cool head as he pumped lead into the advancing yellow waves. He reduced their numbers as systematically as he once balanced ledgers for his family's deli.

I looked over my shoulder to observe PFC Hannigan maneuver the Charlie unit riflemen into position. For the briefest moment, I imagined him as the middle linebacker he used to be, relaying defensive plays from the sidelines to his team-mates.

As the gunfire lulled, the colored soldiers and the bamboo nigger Scouts scrambled to recover our fallen. They hurried to load the bodies into waiting jeeps.

I had written off my PA counterpart, Sgt. Valdepeña, as a sissy haciendero's son; just another soft rich kid conscripted by his banana republic. Turned out that bastard could his own when it mattered. With a blow of his whistle, his men fixed their bayonets and launched a counter-offensive. They piled into the jeeps driven by the Scouts and headed towards the sandbagged wall marking the Japanese line.

With only a rifle, grenades in hand, and a prayers on his lips, Valdepeña forced his way into enemy foxholes during hand-to-hand combat. I watched his sacrifice in disbelief through my binoculars. It created an opening for his men to rush forward and retake the rice plantation at Abucay.

The company toasted to the Sergeant's bravery that night. But after our rousing sing-along of "You're A Sap, Mr. Jap" wound down, Hannigan and I had a somber discussion over the last two Camel sticks. We may have won some ground but all the intel suggested that we were merely delaying the inevitable.