This Must Be True

This Must Be True

"Hey Benson. You gonna dig that hole all the way back to the good ol' U. S. of A?" Lipari laughs.

"Go to hell Lipari." Lowell Benson laughs. Shut the hell up! Johnson and I are going to dig this foxhole all the way back to Minnesota, so just..." Lowell stops as he sees Lipari's astonished look an instant before the crack of a rifle is heard followed by screams of invading Japanese. Lipari falls face forward onto Lowell Benson as the Japs charge through the camp, machine-gun fire knocking down U.S. soldiers.

The shooting lasts but a few minutes before an eerie science descends over the camp. For a few seconds, an echo returns fire, reverberating for several seconds before quiet comes again. The silence is broken by rapid unintelligible orders shouted in a foreign language; the enemy is outside his foxhole. A warm liquid begins to drip on his cheek, blood. Is it Lipari's or... Shaw was standing next to him, and so was Moses.

Lowell feels for his rifle but all he finds is the short handle of his shovel. Oh shit! How is he supposed to fight the Japanese with a shovel? His thoughts are interrupted by a strange squishing, crunching sound copious amounts of blood flow over his face.

Suddenly Johnson screams; an agonized scream, cut short with a gurgling sound. His friend has been bayoneted as the Japs are assuring everyone in camp is dead. Lowel's heart skips a beat, am I next? He feels the bodies above him and watches in horror as a bayonet slides past his face, mere inches away. Oh God, he wonders when the blade will strike him? Fear, like he has never felt, penetrates his sour, help me Lord, please. Frantically he prays, save me, oh Jesus save me! He wants to scream, but the screams dies in his throat.