A NICE DAY FOR A BOAT RIDE
IT WAS ABOUT 8:30 AM, August 7, 1942, when I got my first good look at the island where we were going. To me, it seemed pretty much like every other island I’d seen in the Pacific during the two months I’d been there: white sand beaches framed by clusters of dark green palm trees, with dense jungle undergrowth just behind and blue-green hills rising up in the distance.
But this island was different, and every one of us knew it. This one was supposed to be crawling with Japs, all of them itching to blow us to hell.
We were bound for a section of shoreline...