Bill White and the marines of Company B scrambled down nets toward the Higgins boats that would take them to Florida Island. They ran through the foam, onto the beaches, the first Americans of the war to land in hostile territory.
Their eyes darted across the jungle. The breeze blew the tall trees and grass. But there were no signs of the enemy. They passed through small villages. Abandoned. They charged the bluffs and found nothing at the top.
“We’ve been duped,” someone said. Tricked, they were sure, by other marines who wanted all the fighting for themselves.
“What the hell is this, another training exercise?” yelled one marine.
News crackled over the radio as marines cursed the empty island. The marines who had landed on Gavutu were being slaughtered. They ran back to the boats as fast as they could.
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