Hunter Sniper

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Captain Merrick returned with orders. He gathered the men who had managed to snatch a little sleep on the beach. Some regretted the fact that they now had sand not only in their gear but in cracks and crevices that would make it difficult to get themselves sand-free anytime soon. A shower was out of the question, and there wasn’t even time for a quick dunk in the ocean.

“We’re moving out,” Merrick explained, looking around at the company. “There’s a harbor about a mile north of here that we need to guard, just in case the Japanese decide that they want it back. And knowing the Japanese, they will want it back.”

Merrick told the men to be ready in ten minutes, then waved Lieutenant Steele over. The two men had met outside Palo, when the orders had come to divide the scout-snipers and some of Patrol Easy had been attached to Merrick’s unit.

“I heard you had it rough landing on the beach,” Merrick said.

“And I heard your trek through the jungle wasn’t any walk in the park, sir,” Steele replied. The lieutenant had taken off his helmet, and with his gray-flecked hair and weathered face, he looked at least ten years older than the captain.

Merrick grunted. “I don’t think anybody had an easy time of it. Then again, I always prefer dry land to a boat ride. I’m a ground pounder through and through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen, I’d sure hate to part company with Deke and Philly, not to mention Yoshio and Danilo,” Merrick said. “The four of them are damn good soldiers. It looks like our walk through the jungle is over, but any chance that I could get them to stay?”

“We don’t have any orders yet.” Steele nodded at the pandemonium on the beach. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, but it was hard to see any real organization or order yet. “I don’t think anyone is too worried about a handful of snipers.”

“You know what, I lost a lieutenant in that last fight we had, in a coconut grove, of all places,” Merrick said. He shook his head as if trying to clear it of that painful memory. “I sure could use you and your men. Besides, the damn Japanese really thinned out our ranks.”

Lieutenant Steele seemed to consider the question. “It sounds as if you’re headed to fight more Japanese.”

“Sounds about right,” Merrick replied.

Steele smiled. “Then count us in.”

“Welcome to the club, Lieutenant.”

The two officers shook hands; then Merrick hurried off to make sure that the company obtained a few last-minute supplies: bullets, more rations, and another medic that he cajoled out of the hospital tent.

But when Merrick returned, he was accompanied not just by the medic, but also by the familiar figure of Deacon Cole. He staggered a little in the sea breeze, as if it might blow him over.

The others were surprised to see him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steele demanded. “Shouldn’t you be on a cot somewhere?”

Merrick spoke up. “The docs are under orders to send anyone who can still walk back into the field. We’re that shorthanded. Maybe in a few days, if we get reinforcements, some of these boys can rotate out. Now let’s move out.”

This time there was no jungle trek. Instead, the company followed the coastline, sticking to the beach. While it was true that the going was easy, they felt exposed out in the open. Fortunately, so far, Japanese forces appeared to have retreated deeper into the interior. There wasn’t so much as a potshot taken at them.

“How about that, the gang is all together again,” Philly said. “Just like old times. You missed us, didn’t you, Honcho?”

“Stuff it, Philly,” the lieutenant said, then grinned. “Gee, I haven’t said that in a while. Now it feels like old times.”

The lieutenant shared the fact that Patrol Easy would be sticking with the company, at least until receiving orders otherwise.

“Right back into the fire, huh?” Philly complained. “No rest for the weary. I thought I might sit on the beach for a while and work on my tan.”

It was a measure of the patrol’s informality that Steele deigned to explain the circumstances to Philly. “You know how the army works,” the lieutenant said. “If someone important sees us standing around long enough, they’ll either put us to work guarding these piles of supplies or send us on some harebrained mission to capture some Japanese general hiding in the hills. Or we can go with Captain Merrick. Which would you prefer?”

Deke spoke up. He was still feverish, and the hot sun on the beach felt broiling. He welcomed the idea of getting back under the trees and some shade. “I don’t want to stand around here guarding boxes of Jeep parts and bandages. I say we go where we can fight some Japanese.”

“There you have it,” Steele said. “Get ready to move out.”

Now that they were reunited and unofficially attached to Captain Merrick’s company, the scouts and snipers moved out to help protect the small harbor where the Malbasag River ran out into Ormoc Bay.

Deke had hoped for some shade, but he was disappointed to find that their route followed the beach. The soft sand made for hard going — it was almost as bad as slogging through snow in its own way. Worse than that was the feeling of being totally exposed, out in the open. Fortunately no Japanese snipers seemed to be around, because nobody was shooting at them. Still, the hot sun was enemy enough.

Just north of the harbor they were assigned to guard was Ormoc itself, where the Japanese still held the town and the nearby airfield. US forces had pushed right up against the Japanese lines, establishing their own perimeter at what came to be known as Camp Downes. Although the Japanese had fallen back from the actual coastal area, it was clear that they were dug in and intent on fighting for every inch of ground around Ormoc.

The Japanese had not given up, not just at Ormoc but on the northern areas of Leyte into which US troops had not pushed yet. The enemy forces had determined to make a stand there no matter the cost. Of course Leyte was just the start, one of the many Filipino islands. The grand prize itself would be Manila, where bitter fighting was expected.

Despite their heavy losses, including the naval defeat in the waters off Leyte, the Japanese were determined to wrest the Philippines back from the invasion forces. At the very least, they intended to inflict such heavy losses that it would leave the American forces damaged and licking their wounds for some time to come.

To that end, Japan’s ships loaded with supplies and transports filled with troops continued to steam toward the Philippines, converging on the fight like moths to a flame. Like those moths, they seemed headed for their own destruction. Most of the vessels never reached shore, but were bombed and sunk. The sheer number of Japanese troops lost at sea was tremendous, numbering into the thousands. Oblivious, the Japanese high command sent more men to die.

These heavy losses were inflicted by the superior air power and naval forces of the United States, especially in the wake of the decisive battle of Leyte Gulf. There was not much left in terms of a Japanese Navy to defend its supply chain across the vast Pacific.

However, the Japanese still had some teeth. There were enough airfields within Japanese control that they were able to harass both US ground and naval forces.

This situation soon became apparent to Patrol Easy and the rest of Merrick’s company as they set up a defensive position at the small harbor in the distance.

With his sharp eyes, Deke was the first to notice the vessel. The sun was going down, and the sea had taken on the color of gunmetal, interrupted by the dark blur of the distant ship.

“What the hell is that?” Deke asked. He put his rifle to his shoulder so that he could get a better view of the ship through the telescopic sight.

It appeared to be a small troop transport, all alone on the ocean. Although it could technically be called a small ship, it appeared to be more akin to a floating shoebox — an ungraceful vessel cobbled together with wood and metal, then filled to the brim with troops.

“I hate to say this,” Honcho said once the lone ship had been brought to his attention. He studied the distant vessel through binoculars. “But I don’t think that’s one of ours.”

“Japanese? You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Philly.

By now word had spread, and the rest of the company was intent on the ship. They all watched in wonder as the lone transport continued its journey toward shore.

“Don’t tell me those guys are planning a one-ship invasion,” Steele muttered. “They can’t seriously think that they can take back an island with one ship.”

“It sure looks like that’s what they’re planning to do,” Deke said.

Incredible as it seemed, the ship kept right on coming. It was just possible that in the evening light, whoever was at the helm of the transport could not see that the shore was, in fact, occupied. Or if they could see troops on shore, maybe they had assumed that those troops were Japanese.

Just a day or two before, after all, there would have been Japanese troops here. They had since retreated to defend Ormoc.

There was a lot of confusion in war for all sorts of reasons. It wasn’t called “the fog of war” for nothing. It was even possible that the transport had outdated orders or had been out of communication, its radio knocked out or malfunctioning. After the devastating naval battle, whatever the case, the crew of the Japanese transport seemed uninformed.

It was even possible that the officers on the ship were well aware that they were sailing into a suicide mission but had no intention of turning back. The Japanese mindset was a mystery.

Captain Merrick watched in as much disbelief as any of his men.

“Hold your fire,” he ordered. “Let’s make sure those buggers are Japanese before we go and sink one of our own ships. Where’s Deke? Deke, you’ve got sharp eyes. Tell me when you can see a flag on that ship.”

Their fingers itchy on their trigger fingers, the soldiers waited. They didn’t have any artillery, but a mortar squad set up to greet the incoming vessel if needed.

At least two heavy machine guns were lined up, their sights zeroed in on the vessel.

“Come on, come on. Just a little closer,” muttered Private Frazier, balancing his BAR across a chunk of driftwood. “Come to Papa.”

Silently, almost eerily, the dark hulk of the vessel approached. The men on shore could hear the steady thrum of its engine carrying across the water, directly toward the harbor entrance. Aside from a few small fishing boats moored here and there, the harbor itself was otherwise empty. The muddy water of the Malbasag River ran out to mix with the clear ocean water. The vessel was still far enough out that the water was quite deep, well over a man’s head. The swirling currents where the river’s flow met the sea looked treacherous.

Lieutenant Steele had his binoculars out and was studying the ship intently. “I’ll be damned.” He whispered the words in disbelief. “It is a Japanese vessel, all right. Deke?”

“I can see their damn meatball flag, Honcho.”

Soon, even without binoculars, the men on shore could clearly see the enemy flag silhouetted against what remained of the bright sky above the darkening sea.

“Steady, steady,” Merrick shouted. “Here they come.”

The vessel was picking up speed, apparently intent on racing into the harbor and up onto the shore so that its Japanese troops could disembark. As the ship came closer, they were able to see a few helmets appearing above the straight-sided gunwales. Clearly these were not troops expecting a battle. They were just curious to see what awaited them on shore.

Deke was feeling well enough that he could put his rifle to his shoulder and fix his crosshairs on one of those helmets.

“Don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes,” some witty bastard said, and a few men nearby laughed.

Captain Merrick was having none of it. “Everybody shut up. This is no joke. Get ready. When I give the order, I want you to put more holes in that boat than a screen door.”

Silence fell over the company as they tensed up before the hell that they were about to unleash.

So far the Japanese had not opened fire on the shore. Surely the transport was equipped with at least a machine gun. They seemed about to be taken by utter and complete surprise.

“Fire!” Captain Merrick shouted.

No sooner had the order escaped his lips than the entire company began shooting at the barge. The air seemed to shimmer with bullets. Tracers from the machine guns raced across the water and tore into the transport at the waterline. The heavy bullets ripped open the lightly built structure as effectively as a can opener, so that water began to pour into the transport. The gap was made worse by the force of water as the vessel continued rushing forward. Soon the vessel began to list badly to one side.

If the lookouts on the vessel had thought that the troops on shore were friendly, they had received a rude awakening. Too late, a machine gun began to answer from the Japanese.

The weird blue tracers from the Japanese gun danced across the harbor toward shore. Near Deke, a soldier cried out as one of the enemy rounds found its mark, but his cry was instantly cut short as he was hit again by the Japanese gun.

Private Frazier had unleashed the full fury of his BAR and emptied it into the vessel in one long burst. He slapped in another magazine and went to town on the vessel. He was shouting something as he fired. It was hard to make out the words, and maybe there weren’t any — it was almost a high gleeful sound, very nearly a girlish squeal of delight, which sounded strange coming from such a big man.

Japanese soldiers were now leaping from the vessel into the water, but they were loaded down with their heavy equipment — packs, rifles, ammo, grenades, bayonets, even swords — everything they had anticipated that they would need for the landing. They were soon pulled under and lost from sight.

Even the ones who managed to swim weren’t safe, because the soldiers on shore targeted them with their M1 rifles. Although the water was growing darker in the fading daylight, the sand-colored Japanese helmets and uniforms stood out against the dark backdrop, making them easy targets.

Deke fired just once or twice, but then lost steam. The rifle seemed to grow heavier with each shot, the bolt harder to work.

Around him, soldiers had left the cover of their foxholes and were standing up to get a better angle of fire into the waters of the harbor. Deke was reminded of a firing squad. Captain Merrick had even drawn his .45 and was squeezing off shots.

Although the Japanese machine gun had claimed a few casualties, it had fallen silent, leaving the enemy transport defenseless.

This wasn’t a battle; it was a massacre.

The horizon was alive with explosions and gunfire, each pop and crackle signaling that a man might be dying.

Deke felt no pity toward the Japanese. If the tables had been turned, they would have shown no mercy to the Americans. For the soldiers, this was payback for buddies lost in the fighting. Considering that they had been resupplied just a short time ago on the beach, there was no shortage of ammunition.

He sat down and let the others do the shooting. This was no longer what he would have called precision work. This was shooting fish in a barrel.

The smell of gunpowder burned his nostrils, and smoke stung his eyes, but Deke couldn’t tear his gaze away from the scene before him.

The Japanese vessel was now settling deeper into the water, its forward motion halted. The merciless fire from shore continued. Soon enough there was no sign of life aboard the transport or in the surrounding water, just a few bodies floating on the surface.

“Cease fire!”

Gradually the fusillade came to an end with a few final gunshots. The men on shore stood staring out at their handiwork.

“I’ll be damned,” Philly said, surprise evident in his voice. “We just sank us a ship.”

“That’s got to be a first,” Lieutenant Steele replied. “It also means that the Japanese will be getting that many fewer reinforcements.”

“Amen to that,” Philly said.