Story 1866
Central Kra Isthmus, January 14, 1943
A dozen Canadian Pattern trucks slowed. A gunner with orange cloth paddles directed them to the right side of the road. Each truck parked. The next driver would then leave at least thirty yards of space to make sure that any Japanese mortar attack had to be lucky at least once per truck.
Within minutes, dozens of shirtless men had assembled. Hand trucks were ready as crates were unloaded. Each crate contained a fraction of a second of fire for the field artillery regiment. A quarter mile away, all the working guns in the regiment started a stonk. All the work that was being done to unload these trucks that had started their day in Patani was being consumed in a few minutes after a patrol had found yet another Japanese hardpoint that no one was interested in assaulting.
Two hours later, the empty trucks headed south. Half a dozen men were in the back of the lead truck for the first four miles before they hopped off and headed to briefing. As they adjusted their uniforms, the last dozen Fairey Battles in front line service passed overhead. The light bombers had just completed another milk run. Nine tons of bombs had been dropped on one of the few still supplied artillery batteries in the largest Japanese pocket. Even if no secondaries were seen, the bombs rattled the guns and shook delicate and precise equipment.
A dozen Canadian Pattern trucks slowed. A gunner with orange cloth paddles directed them to the right side of the road. Each truck parked. The next driver would then leave at least thirty yards of space to make sure that any Japanese mortar attack had to be lucky at least once per truck.
Within minutes, dozens of shirtless men had assembled. Hand trucks were ready as crates were unloaded. Each crate contained a fraction of a second of fire for the field artillery regiment. A quarter mile away, all the working guns in the regiment started a stonk. All the work that was being done to unload these trucks that had started their day in Patani was being consumed in a few minutes after a patrol had found yet another Japanese hardpoint that no one was interested in assaulting.
Two hours later, the empty trucks headed south. Half a dozen men were in the back of the lead truck for the first four miles before they hopped off and headed to briefing. As they adjusted their uniforms, the last dozen Fairey Battles in front line service passed overhead. The light bombers had just completed another milk run. Nine tons of bombs had been dropped on one of the few still supplied artillery batteries in the largest Japanese pocket. Even if no secondaries were seen, the bombs rattled the guns and shook delicate and precise equipment.
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