From the diary of LCpl Toby Dunlap
We set sail from Norfolk in the early morning hours yesterday. Crammed into the ship, we settled in a rack in order to get a few hours of sleep. Gunny said to take advantage while we can, as this would be the last chance we could get. I wish I could say my night was comfortable. At any time that I felt I could fall asleep, the ship would rock and shift, the sway would wake me once again. Gunny says we would get used to this in the days leading up to our mission, but let’s see. Doing better than Scotty is. He can’t keep his food down to save his life.
We have been told that our battle group has engaged the British, just a day ahead of us. This was earlier than planned, as we have little in the way of defense. We are marines, not sailors. Our mission is to take the fight to the enemy on their grounds, not out at sea. I have been told that the British outnumber us on the sea, and their land forces have the advantage of fortification. We have been trained, but much of it seemed rushed. Many here are volunteers, but a not insignificant number of us are draftees. I doubt they have the heart to be here either.
Our food was hearty, a better breakfast than I have been fed while in the corps. We have also been getting mixed messages from leadership. Gunny says to eat lightly, as it would set on our stomachs in the coming fight, but Captain Lexington says to eat our fill. The Captain, our skipper, is greener than autumn grass to the corps. I doubt he’d hold command save for his relationship to the king. He will get us all killed if Gunny can’t reign him in. We can hear the navy giving the limeys hell in the distance. They say the battle is a tough one.
I must be brief and quick. We made a landing yesterday. Didn't have time to write. Scotty didn’t make it. Every inch of ground we take is paid with another friend’s life. We barely made it to the beach when all hell broke loose. Machine guns took out the transport next to us. Limey had a decision to make, and chose them. Our lives spared for theirs. Should I be grateful? Gunny took a sniper’s shot in the neck. Doc says he’ll live, but that leaves us with the captain to lead us. May the almighty help us!
Victory, or so they say. We have lost too many to rejoice. There are still pockets of the Brits in and around the airfield, but the limeys have their ships in retreat. They are pocketed in the town.
I must admit that I am lucky to be writing this. A limey was held up in a house, hiding behind the locals. The coward. He grabbed me from behind, and stabbed me with his knife. The captain shot him dead. The royal will get a medal for his “bravery”, or so they will call it. For now, I am in the bed of what they call a hospital on this rock. It is really just a tent covering in a bunker.
Taken from the account of Lt Barry Jones
For king and country. That was the rallying cry that pulled us all in. What a load of bullocks. What are we truly fighting for? The japs slugged the yanks, and now the yanks come to fight us? To any rational gentleman this doesn’t make sense. The mighty Royal Navy was defeated yesterday. Brittania truly rules the waves no more. Then the yank Marines landed on the beach. It was as if the gates of hell themselves opened up and the devils came forth. I ordered the men to direct fire on the beaches, but the inevitable came. Our guns could only do so much before the damn barrels overheated. The Royal Bermuda Regiment shall fight to the last man, if for no other reason than there is no alternative. The once great British Empire has left them to their fate now.
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