1945

[Ulli]

The American troops had landed. After heavy shelling by the battleships and a devastating bombardment by the US Air Force, the beach was clear of the enemy, and the Marines advanced quickly without much resistance.
Among them was Betty Lancaster, a nurse from Brooklyn. She had been assigned to Bravo Platoon, 2nd Company, as a medic. It was her first deployment to the front for the US armed forces, and she was afraid. Some of her comrades had told her about the atrocities and the relentless fighting spirit of the Japanese. The attack went according to plan. Within just a few days, large parts of the island were occupied, and the Japanese offered little resistance. The Imperial Army was defeated, but the Emperor refused to accept the inevitable end. And the Japanese soldiers preferred death to captivity. The losses in life and materiel were enormous. But the GIs had no choice but to march on--all the way to Tokyo, if necessary. Her unit was ordered south. They were to attack and capture the Shuri fortress, where most of the defenders were entrenched.
Since her unit hadn't encountered the enemy in recent days, her fear began to subside. She had grown accustomed to the constant explosions and the roar of heavy artillery. As the fortress came into view, the troops began digging trenches. Two engineers were assigned to her to help her set up the casualty shelter. It was little more than a hollow that provided enough space for stretchers, a small shed for storing medical supplies, and a tent that served as her office and sleeping quarters.
By nightfall, the shelter was complete. She had tended to a few bruises and a broken finger. Otherwise, not much had happened. That would change very quickly tomorrow morning at sunrise, when the order to attack came. She checked her equipment one last time and then went to bed. As one of the few women in the unit, she had been given a cot--a luxury usually reserved for staff officers. She had learned to remove only her field jacket, belt, boots, and helmet, keeping everything within easy reach. Following the doctrine of the US Army Medical Corps, she hadn't been issued a weapon.
She had just lain down when the shelling started again, this time much louder and closer. Then she screamed, and a few seconds later a wounded soldier stumbled into her tent. He was bleeding from the head.
"Ma'am, excuse me. We..."
"All right, Private. Sit down." Another grenade landed just a few meters from her tent, hurling dirt and stones everywhere. The shockwave threw the soldier directly into her arms. She caught him.
"Sit down, soldier!" she ordered.
The man obeyed, and she examined his wound.
"Just a laceration, we'll take care of that in no time."
She was supposed to stitch it up, but under the barrage, there was no time. She applied a bandage and quickly made a note in her journal. Outside, she could hear gunfire and machine-gun fire. The artillery had stopped firing. Instead, she heard loud screams.
"Banzai, Banzei."
The Japanese were attacking the camp. Her pulse raced. Just as she looked out of the tent, another soldier approached her. He was limping and bleeding heavily from his thigh. Then a shot rang out. The soldier was hit again from behind. The bullet exited through his chest. Blood gushed from the wound and the soldier's mouth. He collapsed to his knees with a gurgling sound. Betty was shocked. She had seen many people die and knew what it looked like when the light of life left the eyes. An expression of fear, pain, and relief all at once. She felt pity for the young man. What was his name?
How old was he? Perhaps 18 or 19. Even before his limp body touched the ground, she saw the shooter. He was standing directly behind him and facing her.
She froze in fear and looked into the dirty face of a woman. The Japanese woman seemed just as shocked. Smoke was still rising in a thin trickle. the barrel of the weapon. The rifle with the attached bayonet seemed far too large for the small woman. The two women stood motionless facing each other. The Japanese woman breathed rapidly and gasped from the exertion of the fight. A bloody battle raged around her. Fear was etched in the eyes of the small Asian woman.
Frantically, she cocked the rifle and pulled the trigger. Betty braced herself for the impact of the bullet. But all she heard was a click. In a few seconds, her entire life flashed through her mind. Fleeting images from her past: her parents, the hospital in New York, a car, headlines, and pictures of the war. What should she do? The Japanese were all around her, and her comrades were fighting for their lives. Escape seemed hopeless in the current situation. Her breath came in gasps, and she felt her pulse pounding in her stomach and throat. The Japanese woman felt the same way. Surprised by the silence and caught up in the panic and chaos of battle, she stood rooted to the spot. Her training commanded her to drive the bayonet deep into the enemy's abdomen. But she hadn't expected to face an unarmed woman. Japanese propaganda had drilled into her that Americans raped women and gutted and ate their dead soldiers. But out here, it didn't seem that way. The fear she felt was the same as the enemy's. And although there were differences between the two peoples, in dying they were all the same. Unable to use the bayonet, she dropped the weapon and charged at the dark-haired Betty. She shrieked like a banshee. She was smaller and more delicate than the American, but she rammed her lowered head into the American's stomach. At the same moment, Betty let out a scream. She clung to the woman as tightly as she could. The Japanese woman brought herself and her opponent to the ground with a judo foot sweep. Betty quickly realized that she was stronger than the woman on top of her. The Japanese woman grabbed her hair and face. Brutally, she clung to it and screamed at her in Japanese. She raised her head and slammed or pressed it into the soft clay soil. Betty clung to the smaller woman with all her might. Was this to be the end of her? She was only 22, and she didn't want to die. Not now, and certainly not on an island thousands of miles from home. With sheer willpower, she grabbed the other woman's neck and forced her upright. She kicked her legs free. The Japanese woman slid off her slightly, and Betty kicked with all her might. The Asian woman flew backward. The dark-haired woman pursued her. Awkwardly, she stood up and then fell on top of her opponent. She had never been in a fight before, let alone fought for her life. Her blood was now nothing but adrenaline. With her entire body, she pinned the Japanese woman to the ground and held her arms down. Her opponent tried to break free, but couldn't. Then she bit Betty on the cheek. The American screamed in pain. "
Damn slant-eye!" she yelled at her.
She tore her head free from the Japanese woman's bite, released her arms, and slapped her several times hard. The Asian woman screamed and cursed beneath her. Her expression was unreadable; tears, hatred, and fear were all equally present. She probably didn't want to die either. Her martial arts skills compensated for her disadvantage in strength and size. She freed herself from the inferior position and turned Betty onto her back. As soon as she was on top of her, she gripped Betty's throat tightly with both hands and squeezed. Panic gripped Betty. The delicate hands on her throat were choking her. She had no idea what to do. Without hesitation, she grabbed the enemy soldier's throat in turn and began to strangle her as well. The Japanese woman pulled her head back slightly to ease the pressure. Betty gave her a shove. And now the two women lay side by side, choking each other. Neither let go of their grip. Neither wanted to relinquish control. Betty tried to push down Betty's larynx, but she couldn't. She released one hand. With the other, she gripped the narrow neck of the dark-haired woman and pressed on her carotid artery. She saw the fear in her eyes. She was breathing rapidly. With her free hand, she lashed out at her opponent wherever she struck. Rage and tears welled up inside her. It's not easy to kill someone with your bare hands.
Meanwhile, the Japanese woman increased the pressure on her neck. Betty backed away slightly. The Japanese woman rolled after her and was now straddling her again. She released the chokehold and used the second Betty caught her breath to apply a strangulation technique. Lightning fast, she slid her right arm under Betty's neck, grabbing her own left sleeve with her right hand. Then she twisted her arms. Betty's head was caught in this vise, and the more the Asian woman twisted, the more her air became constricted. She felt the pressure in her head increase, her eyes ached and watered, and she could barely breathe. The Japanese woman screamed again. But it wasn't a cry of victory; it sounded more like despair. Betty's vision narrowed. Just a heartbeat before she lost consciousness, the Japanese woman was pulled off her and thrown aside. Coughing and gasping for air, she sat there. A soldier approached her. She couldn't make out what uniform he was wearing. Instinctively, she panicked again. She crawled back.
"Ma'am?" he asked cautiously
. "Sgt. Peterson, Bravo Company, are you all right?"
Then she recognized the man and his uniform.
"Yes, yes, Sgt. I'm fine," she sobbed.

[Rocko23]

This was superhot- would have been great if they had fought to the end.

[Rocko23]