Prologue: Fall Of A Devildog

Iwo Jima, 19th February 1945

Iwo Jima a barren island of sulphur and rock was the final key gateway between the mainland of the Japanese Empire and securing the safe passage for American bombers to unleash their fury upon it. Both sides knew what was at stake and tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers stood ready to defend their soil while hundreds of thousands of US Marines rushed to meet them in battle. The black sands of Iwo Jima transformed into the face hell itself the roar of the sea was replaced with the roar of bullets, explosion, screams and shouts as the soldiers of two mighty nations clashed.

Amongst the thousands present there was one who could have avoided it all. He had a way out a chance to live a life of peace away from it all. But he made a choice, he could not bring himself to abandon his fellow marines, not now, not ever. Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone was no stranger to battle but the brutality of Iwo Jima was shocking even to a veteran like himself. But time could not be spared to be shocked and horrified by the sights around him so he fell back to the two things that had served him so well before. Training and instinct, leading a machine gun section he carefully moved over the dark sand ducking and weaving as he made his way toward his men who were ducking inside of a crater. He moved as fast as his legs would take him jumping into the crater and laying down amongst them.

"What's the hold up? We need to keep in moving!" He shouted.

"We're pinned gunny!" A private shouted. "There's a blockhouse up ahead. It's cutting us to ribbons!"

Basilone swore to himself before deciding to take a look for himself. Ever so slowly he peered over the crater and as expected their was a large block of concrete sticking out of the sand with a machine gun firing wildly at the advancing marines. With so many targets around the gunner didn't spare the time to take a shot at the peering sergeant. He quickly lowered his head into the crater thinking carefully of his next action.

"Alright, we have to take it out," He declared. "Tatum, Eversmann get that 30, cal set up when I make the call let em have it. Anyone got a satchel?"

"Aye gunny!"

"Give it here I need it," Basilone ordered. "Pass me some grenades."

"What's the call gunny?"

"I'm going up, you all suppress. Once that thing goes up get your asses moving clear?"

"AYE GUNNY!"

Basilone nodded once his marines scrambled into position. The machine gun was carefully placed onto it's tripod at the gunners prepped. The rest of them faithfully moved toward the edge of the crater with grim determination. Basilone stood crouched ready with his weapon shouldered, he tensed himself listening to the sound the machine gun waiting for the Japanese gunner to reload. The familiar woodpecker noise of the Jap Type-3 machine gun shooting away suddenly came to an end after a long burst.

"SUPPRESSIVE!"

With Basilone's cry the 30. cal opened up on the blockhouse joined by several marines letting loose with their weapons. John rushed forward through a hailstorm of bullets and mortar rounds exploding around him he didn't have time to think and had to force himself to keep breathing. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he ran toward the concrete stronghold before him. When he reached the mouth of the blockhouse he could hear the ringing of bullets as they flew through the air and slammed into the concrete causing chunks to burst into the air. The 30. cal ceased firing but a few of the riflemen kept up the cover as Basilone inched ever so slowly toward the mouth.

He could hear the machine gun crew within shouting orders and swift comments were made in Japanese, he couldn't understand the language but it didn't take a genius to guess they were urging the gunner to reload faster. By the time he was in place the Type-3 opened up again this time targeting his marines, they ducked back into cover but by then he no longer needed the suppression. He pulled a cord on the satchel charge and quickly hurled it into the mouth before the gunners within had time to react. There was a scream interrupted by the explosion which sent a gust of smoke bursting from the mouth.

But that wasn't the end of it, Basilone quickly followed with a grenade and he could hear loose ammunition catching fire and exploding within. It would be arrogant to assume the blockhouse was silenced if there's one thing to be respected about the enemy it was their immeasurable stubbornness to not die until you put them down for good. Basilone quickly waved to his marines to advanced and dashed around the blockhouse climbing a hill finding the entrance to a small trench dug between the blockhouse and other position.

"BANZAI!"

As if on cue the survivors of the satchel charge and grenade came rushing out of blockhouse entrance. Basilone wasted no time quickly shooting down an officer who rushed out with a sword held high letting loose a loud battle cry he kept moving determinedly forward before a final shot sent him falling to his knees. Basilone could have sworn he heard the man whisper a name before collapsing.

No time to think.

Shots rang out from the bunker prompting him to duck down. Someone had to good sense to not run out but they weren't fast enough to hit. John wasted no time quickly pulling out another pair of grenades pulling the pins and waiting for just the right moment before tossing them into the entrance of the blockhouse. Another blast, more screams, then silence, Basilone waited for a brief time before raising himself up to see if anything else moved. But nothing moved within the blockhouse that meant only one thing.

"Clear!" He called out. "We're clear, get moving!"

With the blockhouse clear marines popped up from their cover and ran forward dashing on the now opened position. When Basilone turned around he could see their prize in the distance. The airfield, the one thing that so many had died for to seize. The goal was in sight and that meant they were close to victory, close to home. As the marines advanced a tank came into view rolling up the sand to advance upon the airfield, the name 'Old Faithful' written with chalk on the barrel. Basilone waved it down causing the driver to stop as he stepped aboard, a tanker peeked out with an eyebrow raise.

"Terrain's rough up ahead!" He shouted. "We'll guide you in!"

The tanker gave a simple thumbs up in response while his machine gun section quickly marched behind the tank for cover. Basilone quickly joined them grabbing the phone placed on the rear end of the tank so he could communicate more efficiently with the crew within. Once they were in placed the tough Sherman rolled forward while they slowly jogged behind it.

The advance toward the airfield was no easier than getting off the beach. Around every corner a new machine gun nest or sniper post would appear and lay down fire, taking a life before the marines and the stubborn 'Old Faithful' replied with extreme prejudice. Japanese Infantry cut off from the rest would stage one of their infamous 'Banzai charges' some more successful than others but eventually cut down by the marine's firepower advantage. But their efforts were rewarded the airfield grew ever closer and taking it on the first day would spell a decisive victory in the battle to come.

"Let's take that airfield!" John shouted. "This is it, give it too em!"

Seeking better cover and clear of the rough terrain, they abandoned the comfort of 'Old Faithful' and carefully ran toward the edge of the airfield. The Japanese had pulled back ready to fight with their lives for it. The marines paused for a long moment waiting for their reinforcements to get into the position. John said nothing to his team, they knew what to do. Get the machine gun set up, save their buddies he drilled it into their heads back home while they were training.

The roar of tank engines and the whooping of battle cries signaled the advanced. Basilone charged forward with his section the false silence was immediately broken by the roar of battle once again. He kept moving shutting it all out the screams, the cracks of bullets flying past, the banging of explosions he kept his focus on moving forward ducking and weaving the avoid that which came too close for comfort. He couldn't afford to think about how tired he felt from running and fighting. Ignored how terrified he was as his heart pounded. Resisted thinking of home, of his family, of his wife.

Wait

Basilone was given pause. Something wasn't right, his mind was suddenly filled with thoughts that he pushed out when fighting. His memory was racing as if images were flashing before him, birthdays, childhood playtimes, his parents, joining the army and then the marines, Manilla the island he loved so much. Lena, beautiful Lena Reggi Basilone was standing in front of him with a radiant smile. That's when he noticed that he was no longer on the ground, time was slowly his brain catching up with the world around him. He could see his marines around him with horrified looks on their faces, he saw the ground of the airfield below him, he saw the smoke of the explosion that had sent him airborne.

Then all too suddenly he fell to the ground. His breathing became rough and ragged, he started to feel it pain overwhelming pain. More memories came and went as if trying to tear him away from the reality of it. John tried to reassure himself, he'd seen marines get hit before it was nothing new a corpsman would pick him up as soon as they could get to him and patch him up. But he realized he couldn't feel the pain anymore. It was fading away like a wave on the beach, he swore he could hear it, the ocean, the great blue sea it looked so beautiful every time he saw it. He thought about finding a nice island one where he could build a house, maybe get a boat like he promised-

"Lena," He mouthed. "Lena.."

He took a sharp breath. Like waking up from a nightmare.

John felt the pain once again. He could feel his body aching and groaned, he opened his eyes and found he was face flat on the floor. Confusion was the initial reaction the floor was pure white not even a simple mark on it. He groaned again as he stood up, he could feel his body throbbing where the pain once existed. John slowly stammered to his feet and found himself wishing that he hadn't.

Wherever he was it was like nowhere he had ever been in the world. It was a massive hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity along the hall were doors, nothing but doors of all shapes and sizes they were chaotically assembled with no semblance of order. Basilone could only stare dumbstruck unable to understand what was happening until his eyes settled upon of all things a desk.

On the desk was a man smoking and reading a newspaper. John slowly urged himself forward fighting the pain to struggle towards the paper reader who seemed oblivious to his strange surroundings. John was fighting himself to move his body protested and his breathing was ragged by the time he reached the desk he had to brace himself upon it. The smoking man slowly lowered his newspaper and glanced up at Basilone with a blank expression. Finally he responded to John's presence by placing the newspaper down and pulling out a pen.

"You're late," He muttered. "There's much to be done."

"Wh-who the hell, are you?" John wheezed. "Where am I?"

The man said nothing and started furiously taking notes. His expression remained neutral, John was too tired to protest being ignored and could only looking pleadingly for answers. The man looked up once again and simply shrugged.

"There's no time for that now. You have somewhere to be."

He looked to his left and the doors along the side of the endless hall began to move. Initially quite rapidly until it slowly came to a stop settling on a bamboo door with plant life growing around it. The door swung open revealing nothing but darkness. Basilone's eyes widened and he attempted to move away but a force began pulling at him dragging him forward without mercy. Before he could so much as shout the door had consumed him and all he could make out was the sight of the smoking man quietly watching before returning to his newspaper.

Everything was black again. But he swore that he could hear the sound of the sea...