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Back The Land Beneath Us Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Endorsements
  3. Books by Sarah Sundin
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Presidential Radio Broadcast
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. Discussion Questions
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Oh, to be on the giving side of charity for once.

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15

SCOUTS AND RAIDERS SCHOOL, FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1943

“Go! Go! Go!” Sgt. Tommy Lombardi yelled.

Clay ran into the surf pushing a black rubber raft with six other Rangers.

“Faster!” Gene shouted in front of Clay, on the left side of the raft. “Gotta beat that breaker.”

On the right side, Ernie McKillop stumbled.

Frank Lyons shoved McKillop aside, sending him face first into the water.

Bob Holman cussed at Lyons, and both men lost hold.

“Watch out!” Clay fought the raft.

The wave raced toward them, and Clay braced himself, thigh deep in the ocean. The wave broke against his head and shoulders, and he hopped along to keep his footing.

The raft broached, and Clay and the others washed like flotsam onto the white sand.

Their Navy instructor sneered at them, hands on hips. “Bunch of landlubbers.”

Clay dragged the raft onto the beach, then collapsed onto his backside.

Holman marched up to Lyons. “That was cold, even for you.”

Not even a spark in Lyons’s dark eyes. “He was in the way.”

Lombardi held up both hands. “You have to work together. This isn’t the assault phase of the exercise. If a man goes down, wait and try again.”

Clay shook his head at Lyons and snugged his billed fatigue cap lower to keep the hot sun out of his eyes. Even if a man went down in combat, you didn’t shove him out of the way.

The blue Atlantic spread before him, tinged pink from a jellyfish invasion.

The day before, the 2nd Ranger Battalion had arrived at the Scouts and Raiders School and had set up camp at the joint Army and Navy facility. Today they’d started training. They were supposed to complete the thirteen-day course in eight days, but not at their current rate.

No one knew where the Rangers would be sent, but they had to be versatile, whether for commando raids or as the spearhead of an invasion force. That meant they had to know how to make amphibious assaults.

Clay swatted away nibbling sandflies and got to his feet. “Come on, y’all. This time we’ll get it.”

The Rangers assembled around the raft, shaped like a fat bullet.

Sergeant Lombardi held on to the stern. “Go on G. M.’s orders.”

Clay helped maneuver the raft. “That’s right, y’all. Listen to G. M. He grew up playing on the Hollywood beaches.”

“Santa Monica.” Gene’s blue eyes almost disappeared in his sunburnt face. “Hollywood doesn’t have a beach, numbskull.”

“Same thing.” Clay grinned at his buddy.

Gene studied the Atlantic. “Now! Go!”

Clay plunged into the foamy edge of the ocean. The raft rode up a swell then down the far side.

“Get in,” Gene shouted.