#also eugene saying his life would've been ruined.....oh sweetie pie :/

[ww2yaoi]

Suddenly movement in the dried vegetation toward the front of the gun pit got my attention. I turned cautiously around and waited, holding Snafu's cocked .45 automatic pistol at the ready. The rustling movements drew closer. My heart pounded. It was definitely not one of Peleliu's numerous land crabs that scuttled over the ground all night, every night. Someone was slowly crawling toward the gun pit. Then silence. More noise, then silence. Rustling noises, then silence—the typical pattern. It must be a Japanese trying to slip in as close as possible, stopping frequently to prevent detection, I thought. He probably had seen the muzzle flash when I fired the mortar. He would throw a grenade at any moment or jump me with his bayonet. I couldn't see a thing in the pale light and inky blackness of the shadows. Crouching low so as to see better any silhouette against the sky above me, I flipped off the thumb safety on the big pistol. A helmeted figure loomed up against the night sky in front of the gun pit. I couldn't tell from the silhouette whether the helmet was U.S. or Japanese. Aiming the automatic at the center of the head, I pressed the grip safety as I also squeezed the trigger slightly to take up the slack. The thought raced through my mind that he was too close to use his grenade so he would probably use a bayonet or knife on me. My hand was steady even though I was scared. It was he or I. “What's the password?” I said in a low voice. No answer. “Password!” I demanded as my finger tightened on the trigger. The big pistol would fire and buck with recoil in a moment, but to hurry and jerk the trigger would mean a miss for sure. Then he'd be on me. “Sle-Sledgehammer!” stammered the figure. I eased up on the trigger. “It's de l’Eau, Jay de l’Eau. You got any water?” “Jay, why didn't you give the password? I nearly shot you!” I gasped. He saw the pistol and moaned, “Oh, Jesus,” as he realized what had nearly happened. “I thought you knew it was me,” he said weakly. Jay was one of my closest friends. He was a Gloucester veteran and knew better than to prowl around the way he had just done. If my finger had applied the last bit of pressure to that trigger, Jay would have died instantly. It would have been his own fault, but that wouldn't have mattered to me. My life would have been ruined if I had killed him, even under those circumstances. My right hand trembled violently as I lowered the big automatic. I had to flip on the thumb safety with my left hand; my right thumb was too weak. I felt nauseated and weak and wanted to cry. Jay crept over and sat on the edge of the gun pit. “I'm sorry, Sledgehammer. I thought you knew it was me,” he said. After handing him a canteen, I shuddered violently and thanked God that Jay was still alive. “Just how in the hell could I tell it was you in the dark with Nips all over the place?” I snarled. Then I reamed out one of the best friends I ever had.

Eugene Sledge's account of the time he almost killed Jay, With the Old Breed, pg. 83-84