Our medic Davis had rejoined us that day, having been down to the beach for supplies. The only other Jew in the company, Charlie Davis and I had become close friends in the couple months we had been together. Though a medic, he carried a carbine because he was too experienced to go unarmed. He also wore no identifying red-cross insignia, he knew that the Japs actually considered our medics and corpsmen prime targets! We were alone in the foxhole with the MG, the rest of the squad had dug two-man holes along the ridge, spread out to reduce casualties from mortars, etc.

In the wee hours, a two-man foxhole can be the closest thing to home that a GI experiences during combat. Whispered stories and discussions smooth out the tension, and usually one man can catch a few winks while the other keeps watch, and trade off monotonous guard duty in two-hour shifts. Davis was behind the gun, and I was down low in the hole in a little crevasse I had dug to sort of curl up into. Sitting on my helmet, I had my .45 in my lap, and was lightly dozing when suddenly I heard Charlie grunt. I look up to see two Japs looming in the darkness over the parapet against the sky, with their bayonets buried deep in Davis’ guts! They had crept up the ridge silently and simultaneously sprung up and got whoever was sitting behind the machine gun. Without thinking I fired two rapid shots with the .45, and both Japs went down; their bayonets still buried in Davis’ guts, they ripped up through him as they fell.

For the rest of the night I sat holding my friend’s body; his insides had spilled out into the muck of the foxhole, and I kept trying to stuff them back in. I had never really got close to anyone in the squad, but with Charlie I had ‘let my guard down’, I felt in more ways than one. For the rest of my time in combat I kept my distance, especially with the new guys; sometimes one would get killed and nobody could even remember his name…

In the morning we chucked Davis’ body over the side, and for the next three days he lay in the gully on top of the two dead Japs who had killed him, rotting away. I had to watch the whole process of my friend turning colors in that fetid jungle, all busted open and swarming with maggots, it sometimes looked like he was moving! I was getting pretty crazy by then, and the next day I crept out of the hole and just started chucking grenades into the jungle! A couple of the new guys pulled me back in, and one of them tied a length of wire to my belt and the other end to his; for a while they had to keep me on a leash…