Hunter Sniper

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sinking the Japanese vessel had brought a sense of elation, but it was fleeting. The sighting of the enemy vessel seemed to raise even more questions. If the Japanese had sent one boat, would they send others? Had there been landings that they hadn’t seen, meaning that enemy troops might be circling around behind them?

“Over here!” shouted a soldier who was exploring farther down the waterfront. He had reached a cove that had been concealed around a bend in the shoreline.

Their fears regarding the Japanese presence were confirmed when someone found tracks in the mud and sand where another enemy craft had apparently landed. The number of footprints and the impressions left by the equipment that had been dragged ashore indicated that a contingent of Japanese had escaped their detection.

The tracks were so fresh that water was still oozing into them from the surrounding mud. The Japanese must have landed undetected, possibly just before the arrival of the US troops at the waterfront or when their attention had been focused on sinking the Japanese landing craft.

“The Japanese landed here, all right,” Lieutenant Steele said. “The question is, Where did they go?”

Considering that they hadn’t immediately attacked, it was most likely that the Japanese had slipped away toward Ormoc to bolster the defenders with more men and supplies. But the ship that had brought them to shore couldn’t simply have vanished in such a short amount of time.

Deke swung his gaze out to sea.

“Look!” he cried, pointing toward a dark speck riding the swells beyond the harbor. They could just make out the outline of the distant vessel. The vessel was definitely going away rather than approaching. It wouldn’t be long before the vessel disappeared over the horizon.

After an uneasy night getting what sleep they could, new orders arrived. Although they had not come under further attack during the night after the incident with the barge, they could still hear random firing in the distance. It seemed to be a promise of things to come, letting them know that the Japanese weren’t finished yet.

In any case, their assignment to guard the harbor proved to be short lived. General Bruce, the division commander, apparently did not see fit to let his battle-hardened troops rest easy. Captain Merrick’s company received orders to move out, and a company of fresh troops was moved into position.

“Maybe we did too good of a job, considering that we even sank that Japanese barge,” Philly grumbled. “We killed the hell out of those Japanese, that’s for sure. Not a one of them made it to shore.”

“Not a one of them,” Yoshio repeated hollowly. He didn’t have to elaborate on the fact that none of the Japanese had even been allowed to shore.

“It ain’t like they were gonna surrender,” Deke pointed out in an effort to make Yoshio feel better, but it didn’t seem to do much good.

While the sinking of the enemy barge had buoyed most of their spirits because it had been such a lopsided victory, it may have come as no surprise that Yoshio did not seem to share in that jubilation. Enemy or not, the men they had slaughtered in the harbor — there was no other term for it — were Japanese, and Yoshio must have surely been affected by that. He knew better than to admit it out loud and kept his thoughts to himself.

Merrick’s company found itself moving inland. Aside from the unlucky troop transport, they had yet to see any Japanese troops even with the proximity to Ormoc. They approached a small village called Ipil, about halfway between the harbor and the city of Ormoc itself.

Once again Patrol Easy had taken point, this time with Danilo in the lead. Right behind Danilo were Egan and Thor, in hopes that the dog would smell the enemy if Danilo didn’t spot them first. The rest of the soldiers in the company seemed reassured by the sight of the dog, but Deke preferred to put his faith in Danilo.

Deke didn’t mind seeing Danilo leading the company, considering that he still didn’t feel completely himself. His fever had mostly abated, but he still felt too weak to be effective. He longed to close his eyes and sleep for a day or two, but he knew that he wasn’t going to be that lucky. Like he’d been told back on the beach, every man was needed in this fight for Ormoc.

“Everyone says that the Japanese are dug in tight,” Rodeo said. “Do you think it’s true?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Philly pointed out.

The company had some help as it moved out in the form of the “Long Toms” from the 226th Field Artillery. The 155-millimeter field guns helped to pave the way ahead of the company’s advance. The shells screeched overhead, then landed in the distance with a dull thud that still managed to shake the ground even at this distance. Plumes of black smoke and dust rose into the air.

“I just hope they have good aim,” Philly said. “I sure don’t want one of those dropping on my head.”

“It would give you quite a headache, all right,” Deke agreed. The shelling also made him anxious, but not for the same reason as Philly. He preferred to be able to hear what lay ahead of them, and listening for any sign of the enemy, from the silence of the jungle birds to a shouted order in Japanese, was helpful. As things stood, only the roar of the shells coming in and exploding filled his ears. In his experience, the Japanese were usually so dug in that shelling never did much good anyhow.

The village was too small to be considered a suburb of Ormoc, little more than a collection of huts that appeared peaceful enough.

Yet something wasn’t quite right. There was an air of desertion about the place. No smoke rose from any cooking fires. No people were visible. The animal pens made from tree branches and scraps of wire stood empty. Not so much as a chicken scratched the dirt. Deke couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but some instinct made him tense up and ready his weapon.

Danilo must have sensed it too. Up ahead, the Filipino slowed his pace, taking it all in. It was hard to say whether the settlement felt serene — or spooky.

Any thoughts that Ipil was a half-forgotten village evaporated when the Japanese opened fire as the company came in view of the dwellings.

“Take cover!” Merrick shouted as soldiers scrambled off the road.

The village provided good cover for the enemy, who had built dugouts under the huts or were taking advantage of the root cellars beneath. They were practically invisible as they opened fire. The tallest building seemed to be a kind of barn, almost like a hayloft, and there was a Japanese up there with a submachine gun, doing a good job of spraying the road with metal.

Caught in the open, several soldiers went down in the initial burst of fire. Deke saw a soldier throw out his arms in what might have been a gesture of welcome if it hadn’t been for the gaping bullet holes coming out his back. The man dropped his rifle, rocked back on his heels, and fell into the road, blood running from his body. Poor bastard never knew what hit him, Deke thought.

Deke scrambled behind a log that had been knocked down during the shelling. He lay on his belly in the dirt, staying as flat as possible, head down as bullets chipped chunks off the log. Philly and Yoshio slid in beside him. The rest of Patrol Easy had scattered, finding cover wherever they could. Stray bullets kicked up dirt and sand all around them.

“Son of a bitch!” Philly shouted.

Behind them they could hear Captain Merrick shouting for his men to pour fire into the huts. Nearby, Lieutenant Steele was doing his best to direct the platoon that he’d been given command of when he had joined the company.

“Aim low,” Honcho ordered. “The Nips are hiding under those huts.”

The thin walls of the huts offered the Japanese little or nothing in the way of protection as the company began to get organized and return fire. Too many of the bullets passed right through the empty huts, though. Honcho had hit the nail on the head. The Japanese were under the huts, which made them difficult targets. As men figured it out, they took up the cry, “Aim low! The bastards are under the huts!” The satisfying sound of rapid fire from M1 rifles began to fill the air.

The thing about combat was that the sheer terror of it made returning fire with any real accuracy difficult. Sure, these men were veterans of several fights, but in those first moments of the skirmish their aim was shaky, and their shots went wild. Officers like Merrick and Steele filled the all-important role of reminding the men to return fire. Eventually the soldiers’ training kicked in. The sheer volume of fire from the superior M1 rifles began to have a telling effect on the enemy, especially as the soldiers calmed down and took more accurate aim.

Lieutenant Steele had been lying flat behind another fallen log. He rolled to one knee and fired a couple of quick shots from his combat shotgun into the base of the nearest hut.

“Goddamn Nips!” he shouted, then threw himself flat once again just before a fresh flurry of shots chipped splinters from the log he was hiding behind.

As it turned out, Lieutenant Steele also had another trick up his sleeve. He grabbed Rodeo by the shoulder and dragged him close. Rodeo had traded his heavy radio for a handset radio — or “walkie-talkie,” as some called them. Steele took it from him, and everyone nearby could hear him shouting into the radio for the artillery to shorten its aim and bring some hellfire down upon the village.

Deke gulped. Everyone knew how risky that was. The smallest miscalculation would bring the shells down on their own heads instead of the Japanese.

He braced himself as the first shell came screaming in, literally burying his face in the dirt. The impact of the shell seemed to lift him up and shake him out like a rug. Then another shell hit, and another.

By some miracle, the gunners were right on target. Three artillery rounds arrived in quick succession. A couple of the huts simply disappeared. They were there one minute and gone the next, vanishing in a geyser of swirling dirt, palm fronds, and shattered lumber. A fourth shell exploded in the midst of the village, scattering debris in every direction.

Honcho called in a cease-fire over the handset. He then shouted, “Move! Move!”

Honcho led the way, shotgun held at hip level, blasting away. The artillery shells seemed to have stunned the Japanese, at least momentarily.

But the Americans weren’t the only ones able to conjure firepower out of thin air. No sooner had the company begun its advance than a roar was heard overhead. The roar was caused not by more artillery shells, but by the powerful Mitsubishi engine of a Japanese fighter plane. Skimming the treetops, the plane dipped its nose toward the ground and unleashed a long burst from its machine guns. Men scattered as the bullets churned up the ground. The roar of the plane and then the fury of its guns was deafening.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the plane was gone, chased by antiaircraft fire from a battery at the beachhead. The proximity of the beach was a reminder of just how little the US forces had advanced. It was also a reminder that the Japanese were far from beaten as long as they still had a few aircraft to strike at ground troops.

Deke dove for the ground with the others, scanning the sky with his rifle in case the plane decided to come back. Incredibly, he heard cheering from the Japanese position as the sound of the plane receded.

The artillery barrage had left the Japanese battered but far from defeated. The appearance of the Japanese plane hadn’t done much damage, but it had definitely been a morale booster. It had also put an end to the company’s efforts to advance.

Loud and clear, cutting through all the noise, he heard a Japanese voice taunting them, “Hey, Charlie, how you like them apples?”

It might have been funny if the enemy’s intent hadn’t been so sinister.

“I got your apples right here!” Private Frazier shouted, then unleashed his BAR into the hut where the Japanese taunt had come from. The flurry of bullets ripped chunks out of the structure, filling the air with what resembled confetti.

As it turned out, the Japanese soldier might have been gloating too soon.