Fallen Sniper

Chapter Eight

As it turned out, they hadn’t moved fast enough. No sooner had the words left Cole’s mouth, then a flurry of gunfire whistled overhead. Bit of branches flew as bullets chewed up the thicket.

“Damn it all, one of those boys has got himself a submachine gun,” Cole muttered.

“And he’s awfully trigger happy.”

Cole cocked his head, listening to the rhythm of the firing. It sounded like a Thompson submachine gun to him, not one of the Chinese weapons. The Chinese had managed to arm themselves with a fair amount of weapons that were either captured or scavenged off the battlefield.

Considering that the Thompson spewed .45-caliber slugs, this wasn’t good news.

Fortunately, they were all down in a gully, safely out of harm’s way — for now. But Cole didn’t want to press their luck.

More measured shots came between the bursts from the submachine gun. A bullet struck a branch just above the kid’s head, and he ducked lower.

“Someone over there knows how to shoot, that’s for damn sure,” Cole muttered. “They want us to keep our heads down while he takes his time picking us off.”

“When we were leaving the village, I got a glimpse at the Chinese hunting for us,” the pilot said. “One of them was carrying a rifle with a scope. A sniper rifle.”

“Yeah, I saw him when we jumped those guys,” Cole said. “That must be him now.”

Cole had to admit that keeping them pinned down was a good strategy on the part of the Chinese, but he was having none of it. Carefully, he worked his way higher in the gully, his face pressed into the gravel. He was sure that he probably shared the overgrown gully with snakes and other critters, which were the least of his worries now.

He chanced a peek over the rim of the gully. He didn’t have a clear view of the enemy hidden in the thicket. Separating the two sides was a long stretch of sandy beach. Around the halfway point, he could see the bodies of the Chinese soldiers that he and the kid had shot. There was nothing in the way of cover out there.

He caught glimpses of their muzzle flashes, but for the most part, the Chinese were well hidden. One of the enemy soldiers could definitely shoot, which piqued his curiosity. It also caused Cole some uncertainly because his last encounter with a Chinese sniper had not gone well, until their rivalry finally ended on Sniper Ridge.

A bullet plucked at a stone near Cole’s head and he slid deeper into the gully. The enemy marksman had picked him right out.

Keeping low, Cole made his way over to the others. They stayed huddled together as more fire turned the branches overhead into toothpicks.

“That submachine gun is keeping us pinned down,” Cole said. “I’m going to see what I can do about it.”

He crawled out of the gully, following the trunk of a fallen tree that provided some protection. The tree had washed up on the bank in some long-ago flood, its bark stripped away and the wood polished smooth so that it resembled nothing so much as a giant bone.

Cole moved to where he could get his rifle under the log without being seen. The Chinese had the gully pinned down, but they hadn’t spotted Cole — not yet, anyhow. He saw the flashes indicating where the submachine gun was being fired from, and unleashed two quick shots in that direction.

The gunner fell silent. He was either reloading — or one of Cole’s bullet had found its mark.

He belly-crawled back to the gully as fast as he could, keeping the log between him and the thicket.

No matter — a bullet still hit the top of the log near where Cole was crawling, showering him with splinters of driftwood.

“Go! Now’s our chance.”

Jang-mi cast nervous glances toward the Chinese position, but Lieutenant Commander Miller didn’t give her time to consider her options. With an ignominious shove from behind, he propelled her out of the gully and into the thicket. The pilot was next, followed by the boy and the old man.

“Now what?” the pilot wondered.

“Now we run, Flyboy! That’s what!”

Cole barreled through the thicket, wanting to put as many trees as possible between himself and that Chinese sniper, who had made some uncanny shots. He wasn’t all that worried about making noise, although he was quieter than the others, whose progress was marked by the sound of snapping branches and loud curse from Lieutenant Commander Miller as he stumbled, fell flat, then picked himself up and kept going.

Still, a couple of shots pursued them, boring after them through the thicket. It was only by some miracle that no one was hit.

He was surprised by a blur of motion to his left as someone pushed past him. It was Jang-mi.

“You too slow,” she said. “Follow me.”

Cole didn’t know whether to be amused or angry. “Lead the way then, missy. I just hope to hell you know where you’re going.”

To their benefit, Jang-mi did seem to know the way. She led them out of the thicket, where it was slow going, and to a path that led away from the river. Once on the path, they moved quickly now that branches and briars weren’t constant clawing at them.

They paused long enough to catch their breath and take stock.

“Some rescue mission,” the pilot said. “Don’t you wish now that you had brought along some extra help?”

“How ‘bout this, Flyboy. You wait here and I’ll go bring back reinforcements.”

“Here’s a better idea. Why don’t we all go with you?”

“Come along if you want to. I’m just gonna follow this girl.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the pilot said.

A few paces away, Jang-mi just shook her head and then started off down the path.

To hurry them along, a bullet snapped through the air just over their heads.

That was all the prompting they needed to follow Jang-mi, running full tilt down the narrow trail through the thicket along the riverbank.

Wu cursed as a bullet plucked at his sleeve, causing him to drop the submachine gun, which he had grabbed in frustration from one of the soldiers. He picked it up and threw it at the startled soldier. “What are you waiting for? Shoot back!”

The soldier did as ordered, firing wildly. Wu had to admit that it would be a miracle if the soldier hit anything, although he was doing a good job of trimming the tree branches. “Aim lower, you fool!”

Cursing, Wu wondered at the reversal of fortunes that had sent him cowering for cover among the stunted trees. Minutes before, he and his men had caught the American pilot and his helpers trying to escape along the river. He had sensed his great prize — the American pilot — almost within his grasp. But then, the enemy sniper had attacked.

Even so, his prize was still within reach, if Wu could only organize the tattered remains of his patrol to go after him.

Beside him, Deng sat crouched behind a fallen log, picking his shots carefully. His one bullet was more effective than a spray of fire from the submachine gun. If they were going to defeat this American sniper and capture the pilot, Wu had to admit that Deng was their best hope of doing so.

“Did you get him?”

As if in response, a single rifle shot cracked overhead, making Wu wince.

Deng fired, grunted in dissatisfaction, and worked the bolt. Wu wanted to ask more questions but refrained. He would let Deng do what he did best.

The submachine gunner had reloaded and he opened fire again at the hidden enemy. Seconds later, there came a shot from the enemy position, then another. The man wielding the submachine gun yelped in pain and the firing stopped.

Wu looked expectantly at Deng, hoping that he had seen where the enemy sniper was hidden. When Deng didn’t shoot, Wu asked, “Don’t you see him?”

Deng didn’t answer for a long moment. “They are running,” he announced.

Wu waved his remaining men to their feet. “Come on!” he urged, although he kept his voice to a harsh whisper. “After them!”

For Cole and the others, their path moved steadily south toward the Allied lines. Having been worn by animals and unhurried peasants, the path tended to wander, but at least it was taking them in the right direction.

They had given their pursuers the slip, but for how long? Cole recalled the angry look on the Chinese officer’s face. That fella wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, that was for sure. The thought encouraged Cole to keep up with Jang-Li, who moved swiftly and gracefully along the mountain path. The boy and even the wounded old man kept pace easily. It was the Americans who struggled to keep up.

Part of the problem was their boots. While the Koreans wore light, thin-soled shoes even in the rocky terrain, Cole and the kid wore heavy military-issue boots. The rugged boots were well-suited to the kind of duty that the soldiers faced, from digging foxholes to keeping their feet warm on the cold Korean nights, but they were not made for traveling light and fast.

The boots worn by the pilot weren’t much better, although they were shinier. Pilots didn’t spend much time digging foxholes or slogging through mud and dust, Cole reckoned.

Annoyed at the Americans’ pace, Jang-Mi slowed just long enough to glance over her shoulder and wave at them to hurry it up.

“Go!” she whispered urgently.

“You go, we’ll keep up,” Cole replied, waving her forward. He realized that he was just this side of panting for breath.

They had gone another mile or close to it, when they heard a rifle shot behind them. A bullet ricocheted through the scrub trees. Something about the whine of a stray bullet always sent a strange tingle down Cole’s spine.

The Chinese pursuers were sending them a message that they hadn’t given up.

There were still a lot of miles back to the American lines. Cole didn’t like their chances in a running battle all that way. But for now, they had no choice but to make a run for it. He was happy to let Jang-mi lead the way. He was second right behind her, but he dropped back to the back of their group. The Korean teen-ager had been bringing up the rear. If it came to a fight, Cole liked his own chances better of stopping the Chinese. But even that wasn’t a sure thing, not with the enemy sniper on his tail, and not when they were packing at least one submachine gun.

The trail meandered until coming to a fork. One branch wandered off to the left, maybe following the river, while the right-hand branch headed upward into the rocky hills.

Jang-Mi hesitated for only a moment, as if debating which way might be faster, but then started up the steeper right-hand branch. Cole felt reassured that this woman seemed sure of which direction to take.

Behind them, he heard a shout and another rifle shot. Closer this time. The Chinese seemed to be gaining on them, although he wouldn’t have thought it was possible. Those Chinamen must have wings on their feet.

Waiting for the others in front of him to follow Jang-Mi, he found himself staring at the fork in the trail a moment. An idea came to him.

“Hey!” he called. “Hold up.”

Jang-mi had already started up the right-hand fork, and she looked back over her shoulder, clearly puzzled, as Cole waved her back.

“I know the way,” she said defensively.

“I reckon you do,” he said. “But these fellers are right behind us. Maybe we can throw them off our trail. Everybody follow me.”

Cole started down the left-hand fork, the opposite of the one that Jang-mi had chosen.

“Wrong way!” she protested.

“Trust me on this,” he said. “Come on.”

They went about a hundred yards down the trail before Cole called a halt. The surface of the path had been dirt up to that point, making their footprint plainly visible, but now they had reached a rock-strewn patch. It was just the footing that Cole had in mind. He stepped off the trail, then unsheathed his big Bowie knife and easily chopped through the leafy branch of a nearby shrub.

“Everybody, go on back to that fork.”

Again, Jang-mi led the way, moving confidently. She had figured out what Cole was up to and apparently approved. When they reached the fork again, she started up the right-hand branch that she had initially chosen.

Cole lingered behind.

“What are you up to?” Lieutenant Commander Miller asked.

“Hiding our tracks.”

Deftly, Cole used the branch he had cut on the other trail to sweep the path behind him. Their footsteps were quickly erased from the dusty trail. Now, their footsteps clearly led up the left-hand trail.

Cole tossed the makeshift broom deep into the brush. “Let’s go,” he said.

The pilot needed no other prompting. Both men ran for all they were worth to catch up to the others.

Scant minutes later, Deng arrived at the same fork. Without hesitation, he followed the left-hand branch with the footprints of the group they were chasing. It made sense that they would be heading down toward the river again, rather than up into the hills. There was nothing up there but rocks and ridges, whereas the river flowed directly toward the American encampment.

“We are close,” Wu said behind him.

“Yes,” Deng agree, keeping his rifle ready in case the Americans decided to ambush them and make a desperate last stand. If that happened, they would need some firepower. “Better get that fool with the submachine gun up here, sir.”

Major Wu shoved the submachine gunner forward and they continued up the trail.

When they reached the rocky section of the path, Deng didn’t give it much thought. Any footprints would not be visible on the rocky ground.

After another ten minutes of hard running, the ground grew soft and damp as they approached the river again. The path grew extremely narrow as the brush pressed in around them.

Deng was so worried about an ambush ahead that several more minutes passed before it dawned on him that there weren’t any footprints on the path ahead. He stopped, puzzled.

Wu squeezed in beside him. “What is it? Why have you stopped?”

“I don’t see any tracks, sir.”

“They did not turn into birds and fly away,” Wu said, annoyed. For once, he was not smiling. “What do you mean, there are no tracks?”

“I think it was a trick, sir. Back at the fork, I think they may have gone the other way.”

“Nonsense. You saw the tracks as well as I did. They came this way.” The political officer pointed at several marks in the damp earth of the path. “What do you call that?”

“Those are the hoofprints of a deer, sir.”

Wu pushed past Deng to lead the way. The major hurried along the path, which grew narrower and hard to follow. They soon reached the sandy shore of the river. Whatever path they had been following had disappeared, along with their quarry.

The major realized that Deng was right, after all. The Americans had somehow tricked them.

Gazing out at the river, Major Wu shouted several curses that were not at all worthy of a political officer.