Kill Crazy

  "Up and at ‘em!” Butsko yelled.

  "Follow me!”

  In one mighty leap, Butsko was out of the hole, standing on the same ground as the human wave of Japanese soldiers who rampaged toward him and his men. He gripped his submachine gun tightly, clasped the butt against the right side of his waist, and pulled the trigger. The bullets ripped into the Japanese soldiers like rain into water...

  Also by Len Levinson

  The Rat Bastards:

  Hit the Beach

  Death Squad

  River of Blood

  Meat Grinder Hill

  Down and Dirty

  Green Hell

  Too Mean to Die

  Hot Lead and Cold Steel

  Do or Die

  Nightmare Alley

  Go For Broke

  Tough Guys Die Hard

  Suicide River

  Satan’s Cage

  Go Down Fighting

  The Pecos Kid:

  Beginner’s Luck

  The Reckoning

  Apache Moon

  Outlaw Hell

  Devil’s Creek Massacre

  Bad to the Bone

  The Apache Wars Saga:

  Desert Hawks

  War Eagles

  Savage Frontier

  White Apache

  Devil Dance

  Night of the Cougar

  * * *

  Kill Crazy

  * * *

  Book 10 of the Rat Bastards

  by

  Len Levinson

  Excepting basic historical events, places, and personages, this series of books is fictional, and anything that appears otherwise is coincidental and unintentional. The principal characters are imaginary, although they might remind veterans of specific men whom they knew. The Twentythird Infantry Regiment, in which the characters serve, is used fictitiously—it doesn't represent the real historical Twentythird Infantry, which has distinguished itself in so many battles from the Civil War to Vietnam—but it could have been any American line regiment that fought and bled during World War II.

  These novels are dedicated to the men who were there. May their deeds and gallantry never be forgotten.

  KILL CRAZY

  Copyright © 1985 by Len Levinson. All Rights Reserved.

  EBook © 2013 by AudioGO. All Rights Reserved.

  Trade ISBN 978-1-62064-851-3

  Library ISBN 978-1-62460-192-7

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner

  whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover photo © TK/iStock.com.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Also by Len Levinson

  Title

  Copyright

  One . . .

  Two . . .

  Three . . .

  Four . . .

  Five . . .

  Six . . .

  Seven . . .

  Eight . . .

  Nine . . .

  Ten . . .

  Eleven . . .

  Twelve . . .

  Thirteen . . .

  Fourteen . . .

  Fifteen . . .

  Sixteen . . .

  Seventeen . . .

  Eighteen . . .

  ONE . . .

  Butsko parted the leaves in front of him and peered at the Japanese encampment. It was two o'clock in the morning and a full moon provided sufficient illumination for his battle-trained eyes. The encampment was a field motor pool, with gas and oil stored in large tanks, and vehicles coming and going. Barbed wire surrounded the encampment, and camouflage netting hung overhead.

  A smile came over Butsko's weather-beaten face. The patrol had been uneventful so far, but now he could do some damage. Within the encampment he saw tents where Japanese soldiers were sleeping. Two guards patrolled the perimeter of the barbed wire on the inside. The encampment was far behind the front lines, and the Japs thought they were safe. They didn't know the recon platoon was in the area.

  Butsko turned to Corporal Sam Longtree, a full-blooded Apache Indian from Arizona, and angled his head in the direction from which they'd just come. Longtree nodded and eased backward, turning around and moving close to the ground. Butsko followed in a similar crouch, his mind filled with a variety of plans for the destruction of the Jap motor pool. Out of all those plans, he'd have to select one and hope it was the best one.

  Butsko and Longtree slipped through the jungle, leaves brushing their bodies. Somewhere in the distance a wild dog howled and random shots could be heard far away, but it was a quiet night on Bougainville—so far.

  They came to a small clearing, and in the moonlight six soldiers were lying around. They stirred as Butsko and Longtree joined them.

  “Wake up!” Butsko said in a hoarse whisper. “We got work to do!”

  The GIs picked themselves up off the ground and crowded around Butsko and Longtree.

  “What's out there?” asked Frankie La Barbara, his handsome face marred by a nose bent out of shape in hand-to-hand combat four weeks earlier.

  “Shaddup,” Butsko growled. “I'll tell ya when I tell ya.”

  Butsko tried to figure out who should do what. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of all of his men, and had to match each man to his job. He looked at them one by one. Longtree was silent and could creep up on you, cutting your throat before you knew he was there. Corporal Charles Bannon, a Texan, was smart, deadly, and a born leader. Private Nutsy Gafooley, the former hobo, was small, fast, and surprisingly strong despite his scrawny stature. Pfc. Homer Gladley, a farm-boy from Kansas, wasn't very smart but was the biggest man in the platoon and the strongest man Butsko had ever known. Pfc. Shaw had been a professional heavyweight boxer before the war; he was a good all-around soldier. And Frankie La Barbara loved dirty work, once you got him going. The problem was getting him going.

  Butsko jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “There's a Jap motor pool back there. We're gonna blow it up. It's surrounded by barbed wire and's got two guards. Where's the wire cutters?”

  “I got ‘em,” replied Bannon.

  “Check to make sure.”

  “I toldja I got ‘em, Sarge.”

  “An’ I told you to make sure.”

  Bannon took his pack off his back and opened it up. It annoyed him when Butsko treated him like an idiot, but Butsko treated everybody like an idiot. Bannon pulled the wire cutters out of his pack and held them up. “See?”

  Butsko grumbled and picked up a twig fron the ground. He drew a rectangle near his feet and jabbed the stick in the middle. “Here's where the gas and oil is, and there's Japs sacked out over here.” He pointed to another area inside the rectangle. “The guards'll be the hard part. We gotta get them before they see us. Shaw you cut the wire and go in with Longtree. Longtree'll kill the first guard, and then, when the second one comes around, Longtree'll get him too. Then Longtree'll signal to the rest of us and we'll go in through the place where the barbed wire is cut. Any questions so far?”

  Frankie raised his finger in the air.

  Butsko frowned. “What now?”

  “What're we doin’ this for, Sarge? Why don't we just go back and give the coordinates to Major Cobb? Let the fuckin’ flyboys take care of it. Why does it haveta be us?”

  “Because I said so. Any other questions?”

  Nobody said anything.

  “Good, because I hate questions. Where was I? Oh, yeah. The guards are dead, and we're comin’ through the barbed wire. Nutsy and me will link up with Shaw and Longtree and go after the gas tanks with hand grenades. Bannon, you take Frankie and Gladley and shoot up them tents. It's up to you to keep the Japs off us. Got it?”

&
nbsp; “I got it, Sarge.”

  “Any questions? And if Frankie La Barbara asks another question, I'm gonna punch his fucking lights out.”

  Frankie's mouth was half open, when he realized the full import of what Butsko had said. He closed his mouth and shrugged. No one else said anything.

  “I'm glad yez all understand,” Butsko said. “Let's move it out. Longtree and Shaw go first, and the rest of us'll follow. Keep it quiet. Go.”

  Longtree and Shaw crouched low and moved into the jungle, carrying their Thompson submachine guns in their right hands. Butsko followed them, and the rest of the men fell in behind him.

  The patrol moved silently through the jungle, dodging trees, stepping over exposed roots. The men wore soft fatigue caps, similar to baseball caps, instead of their steel helmets, and their faces were camouflaged with black face cream. Longtree was in front and he was the first to see the motor pool. Dropping to one knee, he held out his hand behind him.

  The rest of the patrol stopped and got down on their bellies. Longtree and Shaw looked through the foliage at the motor pool. They saw one guard marching inside the barbed wire, his Arisaka rifle slung over his shoulder. The other guard was out of sight; they figured he was on the far side of the motor pool. They saw the tanks of gas and oil, plus stacks of metal barrels that presumably held more petroleum products. The whole mess would go sky high once they got in there, but first they had to get in there.

  A truck was parked near the gas tanks, and a Jap stood with a nozzle in his hand, filling the truck's tank. No one else was about. The guard turned the corner and headed toward the rear of the motor pool, and Longtree and Shaw watched him disappear into the night. A minute later the other guard appeared, walking toward them.

  Shaw wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “We won't have much time between the first guard and the second guard.”

  “It don't take long to slit a throat,” Longtree replied. “I'll go in as soon as this guy is out of sight. Get ready with the cutters.”

  Shaw took the cutters out of his shirt pocket and squeezed them. His face was lopsided due to hasty work by Army plastic surgeons, for he'd been shot in the face on New Georgia, and been awarded a Purple Heart. Everybody on the patrol had been wounded somewhere along the line. Bannon had a steel plate in his head.

  The coast was clear, but it wouldn't stay clear for long.

  “Let's go,” Longtree said.

  They moved swiftly through the jungle, making more noise than usual, but no Japs were close enough to hear it. The jungle had been cleared for twenty yards in front of the barbed wire, and they dropped down on their bellies, crawling furiously toward the wire.

  Longtree got there first, and Shaw was moments behind him. Shaw reached forward with the wire cutters and snipped one strand. Reaching up, he clipped another strand. The wire snapped apart and Longtree burst through the opening, running with his head low toward a pile of metal barrels. Longtree looked right, left, and forward, hoping no Japs were about, because he didn't want to get trapped inside the motor pool. Shaw followed Longtree, and they dived behind the metal barrels.

  Longtree peeked around the barrels and saw the next Jap sentry march into sight. He and Shaw had made it just in time. He pulled his Ka-bar knife from its sheath.

  “I'll get him,” Longtree said.

  Shaw nodded. Longtree crouched with the sharpened blade pointed straight up in the air, glinting in the moonlight. This was the part of war he liked best, when it was one to one and close, so you could see who your opponent was. The Japanese soldier marched closer; he was skinny and tall. His back had a crook in it, and he wore a Fu Manchu mustache. He looks like a Jap sad sack, Longtree thought. Pretty soon he's gonna be a dead sack.

  Longtree licked his thin lips as he waited for the Jap guard to come abreast of him. The Jap guard took a few more steps, and then his back was to Longtree. Longtree sprang up like a puma from the American Southwest and dashed toward the Japanese guard, who heard the sound and spun around. He opened his mouth to scream, but Longtree's hand clamped over his lips, and a split second later Longtree's Ka-bar knife went into the Jap's belly to the hilt. Longtree pulled the Ka-bar out, drew back his arm, and slashed the Jap's throat as the Jap was on the way down. The Jap's blood sprayed out onto Longtree's face and uniform, and he collapsed at Longtree's feet. Longtree grabbed him by the collar and dragged him behind the metal barrels, dropping him beside Shaw. Looking back to the scene of the killing, Longtree hoped the next guard wouldn't see the cut wire and blood on the ground until it was too late.

  Longtree and Shaw waited for the next guard as the dead Japanese soldier's lifeblood leaked onto the ground beside them. The Japanese soldier's eyes were wide open and stark with terror. His mouth sagged and his teeth were stained with blood. Shaw gazed at him with fascination, because he'd seldom seen an enemy soldier at such close range.

  The Japanese soldier had a fishy smell and made Longtree nauseous.

  “Here comes the other one,” Longtree whispered.

  Shaw peeked around the barrels and saw the next guard marching toward a corner of the encampment. This one was short and fat, with his cap on the back of his head and the cap's bill pointing upward. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and he made a right-face at the corner, heading toward Shaw and Longtree. The Japanese soldier stumbled along as if half asleep, his eyes half shut and the corners of his mouth turned down. Shaw recalled being sleepy while pulling guard duty and now realized how dangerous it could be.

  Longtree was poised in his attack crouch, holding his Ka-bar knife blade point up in his fist. The Japanese soldier trudged closer, as if walking in his sleep. Longtree prepared to leap at him, tensing on the balls of his feet, when suddenly the Japanese soldier stopped cold. The Japanese soldier wrinkled his forehead and extended his head forward, trying to get a better look at what lay ahead.

  “Uh-oh,” said Shaw.

  The Japanese soldier unslung his rifle and advanced carefully, looking down at the ground. Shaw and Longtree realized he'd seen something. He hadn't been as sleepy as he'd appeared.

  “What now?” Shaw asked in a whisper.

  “I have to kill him,” Longtree replied, and then leaped forward.

  The Japanese soldier heard him charging and spun around. He hesitated a moment, not believing his eyes, and then opened his mouth wide, screaming an alarm. His voice pierced the stillness, and then he raised his rifle to protect himself from Longtree's knife.

  A burst of submachine-gun fire shattered the night, and the Japanese soldier closed his eyes and dropped to the ground. He fell at Longtree's feet, and Longtree looked up to see Butsko poised at the edge of the jungle, his submachine gun aimed toward the dead Jap.

  "Let's go!” Butsko shouted.

  Butsko jumped to his feet and charged like an angry bull toward the opening in the barbed wire. The other men followed him, holding their submachine guns high. Butsko drew close to the barbed wire, lowered his head, and dived through, but he was a big, bulky man and there wasn't enough space. A snag of barbed wire drew a red line on his massive left bicep, and he jumped to his feet inside the compound, looking around.

  Japanese soldiers burst out of their tents, carrying their rifles. They were half naked and bewildered, trying to see what was going on.

  "Follow me!” Butsko yelled, heading toward Longtree and Shaw. "Let's go!”

  Nutsy Gafooley followed Butsko, a hand grenade in each hand. Nutsy had loosened the pins while in the bushes, waiting for the order to move out. Now all he had to do was yank them out with his teeth and let them fly.

  Meanwhile, Bannon was leading Frankie La Barbara and Homer Gladley toward the tents. They held their submachine guns tightly in their hands and sprayed out big, fat .45-caliber bullets as they sped over the ground. Their first volley hit the Japs before the Japs knew what was happening, and eight of them dropped to the ground, dead or wounded.

  The rest of the Japs hit the dirt, looking for cover. They didn't know how man
y enemy soldiers were attacking or what was going on. A Japanese officer shouted orders to attack, but the Japanese soldiers couldn't figure out what to attack. Bannon, Frankie La Barbara, and Homer Gladley each dropped to their stomachs and continued firing at the large group of Japanese soldiers in front of them. One Jap raised his head to see what was happening. Frankie La Barbara noticed him and swung his submachine gun around, leveling a stream of bullets at the Japanese soldier's head; it shattered, sending blood and brains flying all over the landscape.

  Another Jap rose up to throw a hand grenade, and Bannon caught him in the chest, ripping apart his ribs and lungs with those vicious .45-caliber bullets. The Jap soldier collapsed backward, dropping his hand grenade, which he'd already armed.

  The grenade exploded with a thunderous roar, and bits of shrapnel flew in all directions, tearing apart Japanese bodies and tossing them into the air. Bannon, Frankie La Barbara, and Homer Gladley continued to fire their submachine guns, pinning the Japanese soldiers down, hoping Butsko and the others would blow up the gas tanks before the Japanese soldiers could figure out that they were being invaded by only six men.

  Butsko, Longtree, Shaw, and Nutsy Gafooley ran toward the tanks of gas and oil. Butsko and Longtree held their sub-machines, prepared to shoot down anyone who got in their way, while Nutsy and Shaw held their grenades ready. They passed trucks and a light tank whose engine was exposed be cause it was halfway through a repair job. Two Japanese soldiers appeared out of the night and ran toward them, carrying rifles, and Butsko machine-gunned them to smithereens. They fell backward, spurting blood from their mangled bodies, and Longtree gave them another burst to make sure.

  Ahead were the gas and oil tanks. The four GIs ran toward them. Butsko's eyes darted around, looking for Japs. He didn't see any but that didn't mean there weren't any around. The Japanese soldier manning the pumps had been sleeping behind some barrels full of gas. He peered around the barrels and saw the four GIs headed his way, but in the dimness the four GIs didn't see him. The Japanese soldier picked up his rifle and aimed it around the barrels.