Hunter Sniper

CHAPTER FIVE

Leaving the airfield, Deke took point and led the company out. Guarding the airfield perimeter had been a brief respite. It might even have been easy duty if it hadn’t been for the Japanese paratrooper attack. Nobody had planned on that one, of course.

They moved down the jungle trail. Before long, they were supposed to arrive in the vicinity of Ormoc and link up with the troops fighting the Japanese stronghold there. But first there were many long miles of jungle to traverse.

The path was easy going at first but quickly changed the deeper they went into the forest. Leaves and shrubs crowded in from both sides of the trail, creating a tunnel of green and gloom. On the forest floor, decaying leaves and half-hidden tree roots wove a tangle that made their footing unsure, trying to trip up weary feet.

The air was humid and warm, and even in the shadows far beneath the jungle overstory the heat of the sun felt like an oven directed at their heads and shoulders.

Deke licked his lips. The jungle tasted wilted, like spinach gone bad.

The GIs sweated through their fatigues, and sweat poured down their faces, attracting swarms of insects. Some of the bugs were no more than an annoyance, clogging eyes and ears. Others were out for blood. Deke itched all over from mosquito bites, some of which had left big red welts.

The mountains were Deke’s natural habitat rather than the jungle, but nonetheless, something didn’t feel right. Deke found himself glancing back over his shoulder toward the end of the column. Private Frazier was back there with his BAR as a kind of one-man rear guard. But the big man was plodding along in the heat and humidity, not paying attention to what was behind them.

Deke motioned for the company to halt. He put his eye to the telescopic sight and caught just a glimpse of movement in the shadows. The next moment, whatever he had seen was gone. Another man might have thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but Deke knew better.

Captain Merrick came hustling up. “What is it?” he wanted to know.

“There’s someone following us,” Deke announced.

The captain was sweating heavily in the heat, rivulets of sweat running down his unshaven face. He looked haggard, probably because he’d had even less sleep than his men, given the nightly threat of Japanese attack or infiltrators. These young captains of combat companies bore an incredible leadership burden. Along with the sergeants, they were the backbone of the army.

“Japanese?” the captain asked, frowning.

“Hard to say, other than that it was two-legged. Whoever it was slipped off into the jungle.”

“This wouldn’t be a good place for a fight, not with us spread out along this trail,” Merrick said.

“I don’t think it was a Japanese patrol. Just one man. I’m not sure what the hell he was up to.”

“All right. I’ll pass the word to keep an eye out,” Merrick said, then hustled away.

The captain paused from time to time to give a quiet word of warning to the men. They had been glad of the short break, but the column soon got moving again along the jungle trail.

Watching him go, Deke decided that he liked Captain Merrick well enough. Liked wasn’t exactly the right word. Respected was more accurate. Merrick had shown himself to be more than competent in taking the company through the jungle-ridden interior of Leyte. He had come to rely on and trust Deke, some of that invisible barrier between officer and enlisted man eroding. Merrick asked for Deke’s advice on occasion and even listened to it, which in Deke’s book made the captain a smart man.

The captain had managed to keep most of the company alive so far during this jungle trek, which was saying something. There were some exceptions. They had lost a few good men, including Dickie Shelby, who had died bringing them precious water when they had been pinned down by the Japanese. Merrick said he planned on putting Shelby in for a medal once he had time to sit down and write the commendation.

However, Deke had been taken aback by the man’s clear prejudice against Yoshio. To be honest, Deke may have felt some similar distrust when he had first set eyes on Yoshio’s Asian features. In every way, Yoshio resembled the enemy they were so desperately fighting.

He now saw Yoshio as a brother and knew that the man had his back. During their jungle trek, the captain must surely have seen that Yoshio was a good soldier, but his prejudice must have been deeply ingrained. Deke was willing to cut the captain some slack, considering that his company had lost a lot of good men.

Not for the first time that day, Deke realized that he felt even more worn out than usual. Even his bones ached. A throbbing had begun somewhere behind his eyes.

Just tired is all, he reassured himself. But he began to have the nagging thought that maybe this was the start of something worse. Was he coming down with something? Several of the men already had fevers, possibly even malaria, and he wasn’t eager to join them.

Distracted by his thoughts, it was only at the last instant that he detected motion in the trees nearby and swung his rifle in that direction, fully expecting an attack by the Japanese. It would explain why he had seen someone lurking at the rear of the column.

But it was not a Japanese soldier. The figure that materialized from the leafy shadows was none other than Danilo, their Filipino guide. Apparently he had finally decided to rejoin them after visiting family in some nearby jungle enclave. In the short time that the column was halted, he had managed to transit the forest parallel to the trail silently and unseen until emerging almost at Deke’s side.

Deke held his fire and swung the muzzle away from Danilo’s chest.

“Dammit, another second and I would have blown a hole in you.”

Danilo just laughed, his lined face crinkling. He did not seem concerned. The two men communicated mainly through gestures or a few brief words, because neither man understood the other’s language.

The Filipino guide touched his own rifle, a captured Japanese weapon, as if to indicate that he had the drop on Deke long before he’d been spotted.

“Bang!” he said, laughing again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Deke wondered.

He realized that the figure he had seen tailing the column had been none other than Danilo. He had slipped off the trail; then, while the company was halted, he had moved quietly through the trees and emerged at the front of the column. Deke doubted that he would’ve been able to pull off that particular stunt had the tables been turned.

Danilo wore a floppy hat, a stained and ragged shirt that was two sizes too big for him, pants hacked off unevenly at the calves, and rope-soled sandals. In these parts, it was what passed for a guerrilla uniform. Danilo had rigged a piece of rope to serve as a sling for the Japanese rifle. He might not look much like a soldier, but he was one of the toughest men that Deke had met.

While Danilo respected Deke’s skills, and Deke in turn respected the Filipino’s, there remained a sort of competition between them as to who was the better woodsman. Danilo certainly had the home advantage.

“Bang! Bang!” Danilo said again, happily.

“All right, that’s enough of that.” Deke pointed at Danilo and then at the empty position in front of him. The gesture needed no explanation, but Deke added, “Why don’t you go on and lead us, if you’re so smart.”

The Filipino seemed happy to oblige, apparently still pleased with himself for having gotten the drop on Deke — well, almost.

Captain Merrick must have been wondering what was going on, but Deke gave him a wave. The captain signaled back that they should move forward.

“Well look who turned up,” Philly said. “I guess Danilo has been visiting the local senoritas.”

It was impossible for them to get any details from their guide, but his smile seemed to indicate that he had, in fact, spent his time away from the company pleasantly. The Filipino started up the trail.

Deke was glad to let Danilo take point for now. They would trade off later, which had been their method for most of this jungle trek. By and large it was the most dangerous position. Considering that Deke was right behind him, having Danilo go first wasn’t much of a buffer. Should something happen, chances were good that they would both buy it.

The two men trusted one another. So far Deke had been reluctant to let Philly lead the way. Philly had his attributes, but he was no woodsman.

If an ambush awaited the company, whoever was on point would walk into it first. The same held true for any nasty surprises, such as booby traps. This was why it was so important to have the company led by someone with skill at sensing ambushes and traps. One wrong step and — well, that might be your last step.

They walked for miles until it started to get dark. Except for a couple of false alarms — one of which turned out to be a wild pig — the day was uneventful.

Their hope had been to reach the sea and the coastal area around Ormoc, but so far that had not happened. It looked as though they would be spending yet another night camped out on the jungle trail.

By then Deke’s head ached, and he felt feverish. Hot as it was, he felt even hotter.

“You don’t look so great,” Philly said to him, looking him up and down.

“I’m fine,” Deke snapped. “Just tired is all.”

“You look a little yellow,” Philly insisted. “I hope to hell you don’t have malaria.”

Danilo had also seemed to notice. “May malaria ka,” he announced. “Kailangan mo ng pahinga.”

“What’s he sayin’, Philly?”

“I understood the malaria part,” he said. “I don’t think the rest of it matters. Danilo here thinks you’re coming down with malaria.”

“What does he know?” Yet Deke’s feverish brow was beginning to tell him otherwise. Getting sick out here wasn’t surprising. Malaria and other fevers ran rampant. For some the malaria was debilitating, and for others it was an illness that nagged at them for weeks at a time.

Sometimes it seemed as though the germs had felled as many soldiers as machine guns.

The trouble was that there wasn’t any bed rest out here in the jungle. There was no choice but to keep moving.

Danilo pointed at the ground, indicating that Deke should sit. Suddenly weary to the point of feeling dizzy, he was glad to oblige. Danilo draped a blanket over Deke’s shoulders.

“Better eat something,” Philly said. “Keep your strength up.”

“I ain’t hungry.” Deke wasn’t one to be picky, but he suddenly couldn’t stomach the thought of another tin of rations.

Danilo had other plans for supper than C rations. He carried a small bag, hardly more than a sack, over one shoulder rather than a haversack like the soldiers. Other than his rifle and his bolo knife, everything that he needed to survive in the forest was in that bag. He didn’t even carry a blanket roll.

Once they were camped out on the trail for the night, Danilo quickly built a small fire, using dry twigs and branches that made very little smoke. Even the fire was small. A man could have scooped it up and held it in both his hands. Like the true woodsman that he was, everything that Danilo did was about economy and efficiency.

“Tell him to throw some green leaves on there and keep the mosquitoes away,” someone suggested.

“What, and let every Japanese soldier in the vicinity know we’re here? Didn’t you ever hear of sending smoke signals?” Philly shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

As the flames licked up and began to consume the dry twigs and sticks, it was a reminder that there was a primitive comfort in a fire. Maybe it went back to the oldest days of the cavemen, Deke thought. Wherever there was a campfire, a man felt at home.

Once the fire was going, Danilo slipped into the forest and used his bolo knife to cut a length of bamboo. The sharp blade went through the bamboo in one swift chop. Deftly, he cut away one side of the bamboo to reveal the hollow interior, which he filled with a handful of rice grains taken from his sack and a dribble of water from his canteen. He replaced the bamboo “door” that he had cut away and put the bamboo over the coals. It was an ingenious way to cook rice without a pot.

While the rice steamed inside the bamboo tube, Danilo produced half a cooked chicken from his bag.

Philly gave a low whistle. “What else have you got in that sack, Danilo? A chocolate cake?”

Danilo just smiled. It was anybody’s guess as to how much English he actually knew, but he seemed to understand them most of the time — he just chose not to speak in return. It was also possible that Danilo understood something that Philly did not, which was that silence was the first step on the road to wisdom.

The Filipino skewered the chicken on a stick and held it over the fire to heat up. Soon the skin began to crackle and brown, filling the lower part of the jungle canopy with the delicious smell of roasting chicken. Canned rations did not even begin to compare. A visceral hunger clawed inside the men’s bellies at the smell of meat cooking over an open fire. Soldiers looked enviously in Danilo’s direction and at the hot meal he was preparing.

“Hey, Danilo, I’ll give you five American dollars for that chicken,” one soldier said.

“Ten,” said another.

Danilo ignored them and focused on cooking his meal to perfection. Of course, there just wasn’t enough of Danilo’s meal to go around. With what seemed to be a collective sigh, the soldiers went back to scraping out the congealed beef stew from the walls of the steel ration cans.

When the rice began to escape from the bamboo tube to show that it had finished steaming, Danilo took it off the fire. Using a large leaf for a plate, he heaped it with rice and chicken and presented it to Deke. Danilo put the rest on another leaf for himself.

Before eating, Danilo crossed himself, and his lips moved silently in a prayer. Deke recalled seeing the man in the morning, on his knees in prayer. Deke never had been all that religious. To see such a tough man humble himself before God made Deke wonder if he ought to do more himself to get right with the Lord.

All in all, the meal was an impressive display of jungle craft of an entirely different sort than tracking the enemy or managing to move unseen through the forest.

Deke nodded his thanks. By now he was almost feeling too weak to eat. The fever was really taking hold. The air temperature couldn’t have been much less than eighty degrees, and yet he was shivering. His bones ached and his head hurt. He was deep in the grip of whatever bug he had caught.

He didn’t have much appetite. Deke never had been a big eater, and lean as he was after weeks of island fighting on Guam and Leyte, he didn’t have any reserves to spare.

But Danilo’s generosity was like a healing tonic in itself. Deke ate everything on the leaf, feeling like he had a belly full of real food for the first time in weeks. He thanked Danilo once again with a single nod, then wrapped himself in a blanket and slept.

Deke’s dreams that night were feverish, all mixed up with the farm where he’d grown up and the jungle where he was fighting to survive. He had one dream where he was hoeing weeds in a long row of banana trees. In another dream Deke imagined that he was in the woods without his rifle and a bear was tracking him, keeping just out of sight. At another point the bear turned into the jungle cat that he had seen earlier. Deke was using every trick he knew to outwit the predators, but he couldn’t seem to shake them. Strangely, the bear marked its territory by clawing Japanese characters into the trees.

Fever dreams, all right.

When he woke in the morning, he didn’t feel a whole lot better, but at least he felt more rested. Danilo pressed a tin mug full of steaming homemade tea into Deke’s hands. It tasted bitter and smelled like boiled socks, but the brew seemed to clear his head and lessen his fever.

The company’s lone remaining medic came by and checked Deke over. Japanese snipers had picked off the rest of the medics during the fight on the ridge.

“You’ll live,” he announced.

“What have I got, Doc?”

The medic shrugged. “Take your pick. Malaria, dengue, encephalitis, or maybe just your garden variety jungle fever.”

“You’ve got one hell of a bedside manner, Doc.”

“Hey, I’ve got news for you. This ain’t a bed, and I ain’t a doctor.”

Deke managed to grin. “And here all I thought I had to worry about was dodgin’ bullets.”

“All I can give you is an aspirin,” the medic said. He nodded at the mug in Deke’s hands. “What did that Filipino fella give you?”

“Some kind of tea, I reckon.”

The medic wrinkled his nose. “Well, it smells like it will kill off that fever, so drink it down. These people know how to treat these things. They’ve been doing it for centuries, right? Then take two aspirin as a concession to modern medicine. Whatever you do, don’t make me carry you.”

“Do not worry, I will carry him if I have to,” said Yoshio, who was listening nearby.

“Nobody needs to carry me, dammit,” Deke said. He gulped down the dregs of the bitter tea, swallowed two aspirin, and lurched to his feet. The surrounding greenery spun alarmingly, then settled into a dizzy spell that left Deke struggling to keep his balance. He felt queasy as hell.

If the Japanese decided to launch an attack, Deke realized that he would be an easy mark. He didn’t seem to have the strength to lift his rifle.

“Here, give me that,” Philly said, slipping Deke’s rifle over his own shoulder. Yoshio picked up Deke’s haversack. Danilo nodded approvingly, then moved forward to lead the column up the jungle trail toward Ormoc and the sea.

Captain Merrick came by, checking on his men. Some were walking wounded, their wounds stiff with the morning dampness. One thing for sure, the jungle and the Japanese had beat this company to hell.

Merrick stopped in front of Deke, frowning at him. “Dammit, Deke. You picked one hell of a time to get sick. You can’t seriously expect the rest of us to fight the Japanese all by ourselves?”

Deke grinned. “You can just prop me up to stop the bullets, sir. Glad to make myself useful.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Merrick said. “With any luck, we’ll link up with the rest of the division today outside Ormoc. They might even be able to offer you and the rest of these poor bastards more than a couple of aspirin.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.”

Merrick turned his attention to Yoshio.

“What I said the other day, when we were interrogating the prisoner, I was wrong. I got a little hot, is all. Glad to have you on our side, son.”

“That is why I am fighting, sir. To show everyone that I am an American. That my family is as American as them.”

Merrick offered his hand and Yoshio shook it, then moved on.

Watching Captain Merrick go, Deke said, “It’s about time that Merrick got his head out of his ass. You don’t have anything to prove to me, Yoshio. You’re a damn good spotter. I would have been dead ten times already without you watching my back.”

Philly had been listening to the exchange and snorted. “That’s high praise coming from the likes of Deacon Cole. What about me?”

Deke grinned. “Jury’s still out on you, city slicker.”

The captain stopped to give other men a kind word. Lord knew they needed it. It was part of an officer’s role to instill confidence, and Merrick was doing a good job of it. An officer had so many concerns and so much to worry about that praise was usually at the bottom of his list.

However, the captain’s confidence may have been premature. They didn’t know it yet, but they were going to have one more fight on their hands today.