Jungle Sniper

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Once darkness began to flow in like the tide, Captain Merrick started giving orders to move out. If they stayed put on the ridge, there was no doubt that the Japanese would begin a series of night attacks to annihilate the Americans.

“We have to get moving,” Merrick said, delivering his orders in hushed tones. “We need to get the hell off this ridge and back into the cover of the jungle before it gets completely dark, or those Japs are going to be on us like flies on you know what.”

Nobody could argue with that. They all knew it was true. However, escaping from the Japanese trap was easier said than done.

They slipped off the ridge in small groups, using the narrow trail to go back in the direction that they had come from hours before. Retreating didn’t feel right, not when their mission was to get across the peninsula and link up with the rest of the division converging on Ormoc, but at the moment they had little choice. This was a matter of survival.

Everybody was worried about the Japanese slipping in behind them in the gathering darkness. Deke, Philly, Danilo, and Yoshio were the last men on the ridge, firing a few shots to trick the Japanese into thinking that the Americans were hanging on to that position. Finally, they joined the others crowded onto the jungle trail.

Once again, it was a lousy place to spend the night. The vegetation grew right up against the trail so that there was no place to really stretch out. Most men hunched themselves into a sitting position, so exhausted that they still managed to drift off. The only consolation was that the dense undergrowth made it unlikely that the Japanese could come at them from any direction except head-on. Nonetheless, fear of the Japanese had loomed large in their minds since the defeat that they had been handed in the ambush. Was there nothing that the Japanese weren’t capable of doing?

With that in mind, Captain Merrick posted the BAR gunner at the head of the column.

“If those Japs come at us, light them up,” Merrick said.

“I hope they do,” Private Frazier replied. “I wouldn’t mind cutting some of those Nips in half.”

“That’s the spirit,” Merrick said. “Keep talking that way, and don’t you worry, you’ll get your chance soon enough — we have to get across that ridge and on our way in the morning, no matter what. We can’t let those Japs hold us up.”

Deke sat on the ground near the others, rifle between his knees. Normally he would have set about cleaning the weapon, especially considering the number of rounds that he had put through the barrel today. He had given a good accounting of himself as a sniper, but they hadn’t managed to push the Japanese out of their stronghold in the ravine. The fight had also left Deke and the rest of the company perilously low on ammunition. They had scavenged what they could from the dead, but the truth was that they had only enough ammo for one more good fight.

He really ought to clean that rifle. However, as evening set in, he lacked even that much ambition. He was bone tired, worn out from the jungle trek and the grueling heat that they had faced all day.

He felt utterly defeated, outsmarted by the enemy sniper. He was sure that Ikeda had helped engineer the ambush that had taken the company by surprise. He had very nearly gotten the drop on Deke. Worst of all, Deke felt the loss of Dickie Shelby keenly. The young soldier had gambled with his life to bring them water during the worst of the tropical heat. He had managed to bring them the full canteens that sustained them through the fight, but at the cost of his life. What had Deke done? He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

“You ought to eat something,” Philly said quietly. It was as if he had read Deke’s mood. He handed him an open can of beef stew. It seemed to be the only thing there was to eat anymore. “Here, take it.”

Deke took the can, spooned in the cold stew without tasting it. “Much obliged,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty more. Let’s just say that if I run out of bullets and grenades, I can throw cans of stew at the Nips. God help them if they try to eat it. I’m sure the stuff could kill you if you haven’t built up a tolerance for it.”

Under the canopy of the forest, the dank air hung still, laden with the fecund smell of rotting vegetation. Insects buzzed in soldiers’ ears, got into their eyes and nostrils. Small creatures — some maybe not so small — rustled in the leaves and set their nerves on edge. From time to time, they felt something scuttle across their hands or the backs of their necks. Most of the men were too tired to care about that anymore. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.

To compound their misery, there was concern that the Japanese would be paying them a visit. They always favored night attacks. They would know just where to find the Americans, who would have no choice but to shelter for the night along the narrow jungle trail. It would likely be another sleepless night for the GIs.

Philly had also given a can of stew to Danilo, who looked at it suspiciously but produced a small knife that he used to scoop out a mouthful. Deke had never seen anyone eat stew before with a knife, but the consistency of stew straight from the can was just thick enough to make it possible. Danilo’s knife was soon scraping the insides of the can to get every last drop. Deke wasn’t sure if the Filipino was starving or if he seemed to think that the stew was the best thing he’d ever eaten. The scraping carried deep into the vegetation on either side of them, but Danilo appeared unconcerned. When he was finally finished, he tossed the can away and stood up.

“Venga conmigo,” he said, looking down at Deke. Just in case Deke wasn’t sure what to make of that, Danilo waved at him in the universal gesture for “come with me.”

Deke stood, not sure what the Filipino had in mind. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and taken out his bolo blade. He swung it deftly once, twice, and parted the brush beside the trail to reveal an even narrower track — some kind of animal path. Deke hadn’t noticed it before — and no wonder, as the path disappeared quickly into the gathering gloom. Not for the first time, Deke found himself impressed by Danilo’s jungle craft. He chided himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings. Maybe he’d been too tired and just plain busy feeling sorry for himself.

Danilo ducked and moved into the forest.

Deke grinned. He knew exactly what Danilo had in mind.

“You’re not going with that crazy bastard, are you?” Philly asked. “That looks like a path for rabbits — if they even have those here — or maybe something even smaller. Chipmunks, maybe.”

“I reckon I know what he’s up to,” Deke said. “Let’s just say that I’m cookin’ corn bread in my own house, and I know where the cornmeal’s at.”

Philly shook his head. “I sure wish I knew what the hell you were saying. Honestly, Deke, it’s like you speak a foreign language sometimes. One from the last century.”

“Let’s just say that me and Danilo are gonna give the Japs a taste of their own medicine.”

He knew that Philly was right about one thing, which was that Deke was a farm boy, through and through. In 1940s America, there were still many soldiers who had grown up on farms. They knew a thing or two about hard work. They didn’t complain about the rain or the heat. Having taken part in hog killing and other country rituals that you got used to when your meat didn’t come wrapped up neatly from the butcher shop, the sight of blood didn’t bother them. Farmers made better soldiers than city boys.

When Deke was growing up and heard others’ stories, he realized that he hadn’t had any similar experiences. No birthday parties. No baseball games. Growing up on the farm had been hardscrabble. He took a bitter pride in that.

All the softness had been wrung out of Deke a long time ago, like green wood that had been left to dry in the sun and wind.

He gave Philly a nod, wondering if he’d ever see him again, considering that Deke was about to head into a jungle crawling with Japs and who knew what else. Without another word, Deke ducked low and began to follow Danilo, who was already threatening to disappear, barely more than a specter in the gloom.

Despite his boast, the truth was that Deke didn’t have any plan in mind, other than to follow this path. He supposed that was the only plan Danilo had in mind. Given the language barrier, they couldn’t discuss it. Danilo led the way and Deke followed. From time to time, the Filipino paused long enough to hack through the thicker overhanging branches and vines with his bolo. Deke slung his own rifle and slashed at the vegetation with his bowie knife. It wasn’t as long and heavy as the bolo, but its blade did more than a passable job cutting away the dense branches and vines.

It was almost as if they were carving a tunnel through the greenery. Fortunately, the animal trail was well worn, providing their only guide through the jungle. It was impossible to tell what direction they were heading in. Deke looked up through the interwoven branches to catch occasional glimpses of the night sky, trying to get his bearings. However, no stars glittered, and the moon wasn’t visible. Was it cloudy? The sky was nothing more than a dark slate. Deke heard a distant rumble and flicker of light. Thunder or artillery? It was hard to know.

The Filipino’s instincts had proved right after all. The trees began to thin out. Looming ahead in the darkness was the ridge where the Japanese had ambushed them. Deke felt rather than saw damp ground under his boots.

Danilo stopped, hunched over, and touched his finger to his lips. The gesture was hardly necessary. With the ravine nearby, the Japanese must be so close that they could have reached out and touched them.

Deke realized that they must have reached the water source that Dickie would have used to fill their canteens. A trickling stream ran down into the ravine, no wider than a man’s stride. Over time, the jungle animals had pawed away the soil to create a pool, the black surface of the shallow water reflecting like onyx in the jungle night.

Again he heard a rumble and flicker of light that played across the surface of the jungle pool. This wasn’t artillery but the thunder and lightning of an approaching storm. The rumbling and flickering light came faster and closer together.

As so often happens in the tropics, the weather was changing again. The storm seemed to be headed in their direction, and it sounded like the start of something serious. The jury was still out on whether a storm would help or hinder their reconnoitering. Deke found some reassurance in the fact that Danilo seemed to be ignoring the distant storm.

After a quick stop to fill their canteens, Danilo moved on. Deke had been content to let the Filipino take the lead. Soon enough, Danilo’s plan became clear. He was looking for a route around the base of the ridge so that they could pick up the trail on the other side, potentially avoiding any surprises that the Japanese had in store for them.

Passing quietly through a landscape of kunai grass, stunted trees, and jumbled rocks, they moved around the base of the ridge toward where the trail entered the jungle on the other side. They had taken the long way around to avoid getting too close to the enemy lines.

So far the only sign of the Japanese that they had seen was the glow of a cigarette among the rocks in the ravine, no more than one hundred feet away, smoked by a careless enemy soldier — certainly against orders. An angry voice barked what sounded like a reprimand, and the cigarette went out.

If there was one, then there were probably many more enemy soldiers lying in wait nearby. Maybe it was just Deke’s imagination, but he thought that he could smell the enemy on the night breeze stirred up by the approaching storm. The Japanese had a peculiar odor, an almost fishy smell. He hoped to hell that the Nips couldn’t smell him. He supposed that he gave off an odor that was a mixture of canned beef stew and rank sweat.

Both he and Danilo were skilled outdoorsmen, able to move silently, not giving the Japanese any clue that they were there. It would have been impossible for all of Captain Merrick’s company to cross this same ground without giving anything away. Even if they had eventually found a route around the base of the ridge, how in the world could they ever use it?

The wind was picking up, rushing between the trees and swishing through the tall grasses like something alive. Deke realized that the sound and fury of the approaching storm would provide him and Danilo with excellent cover.

They moved closer to the Japanese position and began to climb the ridge. In the harsh light provided by the flickering lightning, Deke could pick out a few enemy soldiers scattered throughout the ravine. It was clear that the Japanese were in position, ready and waiting for the Americans to cross the ridge once more at daylight. Their plan seemed to be that they would hit the Americans again once Captain Merrick’s company attempted to keep moving. There was only one path through the jungle, and the Japanese were the roadblock.

Deke shook his head. Surely the Japanese knew that they were losing the battle for Leyte. Stopping Merrick’s company wasn’t going to win the fight. But the Japanese apparently planned to make them bleed for every step of the way. They were a determined enemy.

A plan began to take shape in Deke’s mind. If Captain Merrick could get his company to this point, they could swarm up the side of the ridge and take the Japanese by surprise. Also, it wouldn’t be necessary to cross the killing field that the enemy had clearly planned on the ridge. It would be even better if Deke could distract the enemy somehow by creating a diversion that would take their attention away from the company attempting to move around their flank.

Deke looked at Danilo. He had let the guide call the shots so far tonight, but the time had come for Deke to take charge. The Filipino’s dark eyes were hard to read in the occasional lightning flickers. With just a handful of Spanish words between them, he knew it would be challenging, to say the least, to relay what he was thinking.

“All right, pardner, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Deke drawled in his soft mountain accent. “You go on back and fetch Captain Merrick and the rest of the boys while I distract these Japs. By distract, I mean shoot a few of ’em.”

Danilo stared hard at Deke, as if trying to comprehend.

Deke pointed at Danilo, then back in the direction from which they’d come. He spoke a single word, “Soldados.” And then he pointed toward the ground at his feet.

Danilo’s leathery face cracked into a grin. “Sí,” he said. Without another word, he melted into the night.

Now it was all up to Deke.