Bana's Glory

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Bana's Glory

Post by Offensive Bias on Sat Aug 28, 2010 4:55 pm

Prologue - The 30 Imperials

The sun glinted across the tree trops of the jungle. The natural sounds had ceased when the war came to the area. Overhead, a plane soared. Its engine roared across the jungle, the only sound for miles. Movement appeared, a party of soldiers. Rifles slung over shoulders, they stepped wearily through the growth. Suddenly, there came a call from the trees. "Senoku!" The lead soldier in the party shouted back without breaking stride. "Bihoshi!" The sentry in the trees lazily waved his arm, granting them access into the hidden camp. He leaned back into the shade of the leaves and cast his eyes over the landscape.

The camp was small and dirty. It had lost all communication with the outside world, its radio destroyed in a skirmish with American troops, its operator was long dead, lying in a shallow grave, a feast for the flies. The party of soldiers who had come back to the camp tossed their guns in a pile, displeased with their foray. Food was running out, and for the 30 men who remained, they were frightened to leave the comfort and familiarality of their small, dirty camp.

The Americans had been here for a while, and they had no idea how the battle for the island was coming out. Maybe it was already over. There had been no sounds of guns for days now. The Japanese had been pushed from island to island, ever since Midway. Maybe these 30 men were the only Japanese soldiers still fighting for the Empire of the Sun. Although the sacks of food they took into the wild were huge and full of rice and fish, they were quickly turning rancid, and they soon wouldn't be able to eat them without falling ill...

The next foraging party was preparing to head off, and the sentry was being replaced. Captain Weneki was keeping them busy, for to stop with discipline and order was to invite death and chaos on the camp. They filled their pouches with cartridges, and, without any other means of carrying their food, filled spare socks with hastily boiled rice and rotting fish pieces. The men bowed before the Captain, and left the secure and comforting space of the camp. The new sentry hefted his light machine gun, and walked over to the tree. He called up to Bana, "Bana! You can come down now."
Bana stirred, and almost fell from his branch. From below, Kurimi laughed at him. "Bana, you're getting careless, if I was an American, I'd have Stars and Striped you by now." Bana tossed down his rifle, and then jumped the distance to the ground.

"Kurimi, I want you to sit in that tree, and stay very still for hours, and then see if you don't get bored." Bana shouldered his rifle and slapped Kurimi on the back.

"If you see an American, yell and wave your arms, it might get scared and run away." Kurimi climbed the tree, getting himself comfortable on the branch, and Bana walked back to the camp. The smell of rice and fish reached his nostrils, and he realised how hungry he was. In the distance, he heard a single rifle shot. His imagination came into play, and he dismissed images of the hunting party dead, Americans looting them for cigarettes and trophies. He took a seat on a log, and stared at the flames of the fire. Another rifle shot, the men in the camp began to stir uneasily.

Weneki strode out of his tent, his officers cap stained with mud. He had his Katana in its scabbard, which he never took off his person. He held his pistol, and stared into the trees, as though by his stare alone they would move and reveal to him what was happening. "The hunting party are out?"

"Yes, Sir." He nodded slowly, and another gun shot echoed. But this time, it was followed by the dull rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun. Weneki swore, it was definitely Americans. The camp only had one machine gun, and that was with Kurimi. A Sergeant, who was a Chinese volunteer, began loading his rifle.

"Captain Weneki, Sir. What do we do?" The Sergeant, who was called Yang, said to Weneki. His eyes stared without emotion. In the distance, there was a shrill scream, followed by several rifle shots and a burst from the machine gun fired at once. Weneki holstered his pistol and kicked dirt on the fire. Complaints rose from the men, but he silenced them.

"The Americans are coming. Do not light fires. Eat the food raw." He went back into his tent. The soldiers swapped grim looks, and food was handed out. Tonight, would be hell.

An hour after the gunfire had sounded, the sun was beginning to set. Its light was orange, and the first signs of darkness crept in around the forest. The men were all arrayed in the camp, they had hastily dug mud trenches in a circle around the tents. Tension was high, and no one dared speak. Kurimi had swapped his machine gun for a rifle from one of the other men, so that the camp may be better protected. It wasn't set up, so that it could be deployed at crucial sections of the circular trench.

Another hour went by. Water had been passed down, and now the only sunlight left was an orange glow on the horizon, which the men couldn't see anymore. Then, Kurimi broke the silence a small distance away. "Senoku!" There wasn't an answering reply, and a gunshot rang out. A body collapsed through the trees, a smoking wound in his head. No one moved for minutes that seemed like hours. Kurimi shouted out "Is he dead?" Yang clambered over the trench and crouched by the body. He ran back to the trench.

"He's one of ours... One of the hunting party. I think it was Saigo." Kurimi shouted out again.
"Is he dead?" Yang called back.
"He is dead, but he was one of ours! You killed Saigo!" Kurimi didn't call back after that... The waiting went on for many more hours. It was broken when they heard another call from Kurimi. "Senoku! Senoku!" An answering shout spelled danger.

"Japs in the trees!" Gunfire splattered into the trees, Kurimi fired one gunshot, before his corpse, riddled with bullets fell to the ground. Weneki yelled as loud as he could. "FIRE!" Rifles fired in unison, and the machine gun appeared suddenly, set up next to Bana. It fired 3 seconds bursts into the trees. The others fired their rifles, pulling back the bolts and firing immediately after. Bana ejected his last round and thumbed in 5 more. The others did the same. American fire, not as badly suppressed with the Japanese rifles momentarily silenced, picked up fire. Bullets raked the dirt in front of the trench, but missed its occupants. Bana fired again. He saw figures emerging from the trees, confident. Muzzle flashes accompanied each and every one.

Several fell, as the machine gun next to Bana rumbled on. Weneki fired his handgun in well aimed killing shots. But the Americans were everywhere. He felt blood splash his face, and was dimly aware of one of his comrades slumping on the trench, dead. He fired his rifle at an American with a rifle. He blinked at the kick and flash from his rifle. When he opened his eyes, Bana's target was on his knees, a thin trickle of a dark liquid fell from his mouth. Eventually, the magazine for the machine gun ran empty. Instead of reloading it, the operator threw it to the ground and picked up his own rifle. Barely a second after he had taken aim, a bullet slammed into his head. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit it.

Weneki was crazed. Bana heard a long, drawn out yell and saw Weneki out of the trench, running at the American's with his sword. Two others followed suit with bayonets, Yang among them. They were gunned down quickly. Bana heard American voices in the trench. He made to turn, but then saw a figure drop down next to him. His eyes widened in surprise and fear, as the American attempted to shoot him point-blank.

Bana whipped his rifle round at the butt, making contact with the American's head. He fell sideways, releasing a round as he did so. Bana put a round in his head, and then hurriedly fixed his bayonet. He ran through the trench, time seemed to slow. His heart pounded almost as loud as the gunfire. He felt every footstep, his rifle slowly jerking with his exertions. His eyes fixed on a young Private. The American turned to Bana. His face showed shock and fright. He fumbled with his gun, attempting to swing it around. Bana yelled the loudest he had yelled. "TENNOHIEKA BANZAAAAAAAAAAI!" and then, he pushed his rifle forwards, and felt the bayonet impact bone.

He pushed his rifle upwards, spilling guts from the young soldier. Bana stared the American in the face, his young blue eyes were terrified and reflected Bana's bloodcrazed face, twisted in rage and defiance. He withdrew the bayonet, and struck again at the boys neck. Blood splashed the face of him, and the fear left his eyes... Replaced with nothing, a dullness... Bana felt an impact to the back of his head. He fell face first into the mud and heard voices behind him. "That little Nip killed Franky!" He felt a gun barrel against his head, but then, unbeknownst to him, an American Captain saved his life.

"Put your gun down, he's unarmed. Take him prisoner, damnit!" Bana felt another impact to his head, and he was unconscious, images of Weneki defiantly charging the Americans with his sword and falling to their guns. Kurimi falling from the tree, Yang dying bravely, the American on his knees and the blue eyes youth, no older than 17, his intestines spoiling the dirty trench. And the last thought to run through his head was that they hadn't surrendered. "May the Emperor live 10,000 years..."
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