Pacific Sniper

Chapter Nineteen

Hours later, the path brought them out of the thickest part of the jungle and into a cleared mountain valley. They had quickly covered the distance, less worried about running into any Japanese. According to the Chamorros, the enemy had pulled out and retreated to the north.

“I’ll be damned,” Deke muttered at the sight before him.

“Will you look at that!” Philly exclaimed.

Spread out in the valley below them was the largest display of humanity that they had seen on the island so far, larger even than the invading US forces or the Japanese defenders. During the occupation, the Japanese had rounded up at least twenty thousand Chamorros here, including entire families. They were forced to live in squalor, with muddy streets running between shacks built from whatever scraps could be found. A high fence, most of it torn down now that the Japanese had left, had surrounded the many acres of the labor camp.

There was barely a scrap of food to be found. The people wore rags, and many were sick or weakened by the poor conditions and hard work. It turned out that the ablest men had been taken away in trucks to work on the Japanese coastal defenses, leaving behind the weak and the mothers with children. Many of the prettiest young women had been taken away to serve as what the Japanese called “comfort women.” In other words, they had been drafted into sexual slavery, sometimes forced into satisfying the needs of dozens of Japanese soldiers each night. Such a living horror was difficult to comprehend.

As for the very young or very old people, many had simply died, as proved by the acres of graves beyond what had been the camp fence. Awaiting burial was a row of small bodies, clearly children, that lay bundled at the edge of the cemetery.

“Those goddamn Japs,” Lieutenant Steele muttered, his anger growing at the sight of the dead children and the emaciated survivors. “Those goddamn Japs!”

Despite their evident misery, the Chamorros greeted the arrival of the GIs with pure joy. Crowds swarmed the soldiers. The people just wanted to touch them. They even were eager to pet Whoa Nelly, who dutifully played her part by letting strangers scratch her ears.

Guam was now back in American hands, and the Chamorro people had always loved Americans. In a sense, the Americans may have been yet another colonial occupier, but they had been warm and generous toward the islanders, working with them rather than against them. What had the Japanese done? The Japanese had put the Chamorro people into forced labor camps and starved them. Lieutenant Steele called it a concentration camp.

“Just like the Nazis are doing to the Jews,” he said in disgust.

Deke had heard those rumors about what was happening in Europe, but he now had more immediate concerns.

“Take it, take it,” Deke said, giving away his chocolate bars to the hungry children. It was not nearly enough. To his astonishment, the children who had been lucky enough to get the chocolate did not wolf it down but calmly snapped off pieces to share with friends — and brothers and sisters. Not enough to fill those empty bellies, of course, but they were making sure that the other children could at least have a taste of the chocolate.

Deke felt a knot in his throat. Sharing the chocolate that way was something his sister, Sadie, would have done.

“Don’t give it all away,” Lieutenant Steele said. “I hate to say it, boys, but we’ve got to eat too. Besides, there’s a lot more where that came from. Rodeo, bring that radio over here.”

So far the radio had been used for brief reports. But now Steele used it to call in help. The discovery of thousands of people living in a forced labor camp was unexpected, but the chain of command reacted quickly. An airdrop was planned for food, water, and medicine. “If we’re lucky, they’ll get here before dark. Philly, Yoshio, Rodeo, Alphabet, when those planes come in, I want you to keep everyone back until the crates are on the ground. No point in anybody getting squashed. Deke, you get up in what’s left of that Jap guard tower over there and keep an eye out, just in case our friends here are wrong about the Japs being gone.”

“I hope to hell they ain’t. Won’t take much to outnumber us.”

“You see any Japs, you even up the odds for us as best you can.”

“You got it, Honcho.”

Soon they heard the drone of aircraft overhead. They set off some flares to guide them in — even the massive labor camp wasn’t easy to spot from the air, given the cover provided by the jungle canopy. Parachutes drifted down toward the camp. As Steele had predicted, the starving Chamorros wanted to rush the descending crates, but the GIs kept them back. Once the crates were on the ground, they used their bayonets to pry them open. The Chamorros themselves quickly organized distribution of supplies.

But as it turned out, not all the supplies came from the skies. Some of the camp leaders produced a bottle or two of American bourbon that they had somehow kept hidden away from the Japanese. They’d always believed that the Americans would return to help them drink it.

Along with the precious bourbon, it turned out that the Chamorros had hidden away American flags. Some were small and homemade, while larger flags had been secreted away after the Japanese invasion. To be caught with an American flag was certain death at the hands of the Japanese. Now those flags were waved in triumph.

As night came on, the liberated Chamorros insisted on sharing the bourbon with the GIs. Lieutenant Steele wasn’t about to veto the long-overdue celebration. He accepted bourbon in his tin mug and raised it in toast as one of the Chamorros shouted, “America!”

More than a hundred other voices joined in, “America! America!”

That night, feeling a pleasant glow from the bourbon, Deke spread his blanket beside the warm coals of what had been a bonfire. The open sky overhead was a whole lot better than a bat-filled cave in the jungle. The bare ground was comfortable enough once he had scooped out a hole for his hips. Maybe it was foolhardy, but the squad didn’t even post a guard, not when they were surrounded by at least twenty thousand friendly Chamorros. Nearby, Philly and Yoshio were already snoring.

Lieutenant Steele remained awake even after the men had bedded down, staring into the coals and sipping a little bourbon and smoking a final cigarette. He was really just a few years older than the men, but he looked more like a father figure than ever. Deke left the lieutenant to his thoughts and rolled himself in his blanket.

For the first time in weeks, maybe in years, Deke felt at peace. It was good to be out in the open. Yet it was more than the sleeping conditions that lifted Deke’s mood.

Deke thought back to his time at the sawmill, feeling as though that were a thousand years ago. He had hated the sawmill, so different from the fresh air and fields of the mountain farm that he had loved before the bank stole it away. The massive, whirring blade cut timber relentlessly, spitting out rough-sawn boards and scrap wood. Deke still had nightmares that jolted him awake in a cold sweat. At first, the war hadn’t seemed much different from that ruthless saw.

Up until tonight, in Deke’s mind, the war was about getting even with the Japanese for Pearl Harbor — they had killed his cousin there, after all, and a whole lot of other Americans. The islands they were capturing were dots on the map, objectives leading steadily toward Japan.

For the first time, he realized that the war might be about more than winning objectives and teaching the Japs a lesson. It had finally sunk in. These weren’t just empty islands. This was someone’s home. Sure, he wanted to get back at the Japs as much as anyone. You couldn’t be from the Appalachian Mountains and not know a little something about the desire for revenge.

Revenge felt satisfying, but you were left with an empty cup. Today he had seen how to fill that cup back up. He had finally realized that they were also fighting for liberation and freedom.

It was as if the war was an opportunity to bring America and all that it stood for to the four corners of the earth — even this distant island.

Was it worth it?

Already, he had seen his share of horrors in this war, such as his friend Ben’s death. That poor boy barely had any business being a soldier, but he had given his life. In quiet moments, Deke still ached for that loss. He hoped that someone, somewhere in the future, appreciated the sacrifices that Ben and the other American soldiers had made on these distant islands.

It was one thing to talk about freedom and wave the flag, but today’s events had proved how that meant something. They had given these Chamorros their freedom. As he drifted off to sleep, Deke felt pretty good about that.

Then again, who knew what tomorrow would bring?

“Maybe someone will give us a medal,” Philly said as they prepared to move out the next morning. “We liberated this whole damn camp.”

“I don’t think that we can take credit for liberating the camp,” Lieutenant Steele said. “These people did a fine job of liberating themselves, if you ask me. However, I am glad that we could get them some food and medicine. With any luck, those navy flyboys will be back today to drop more supplies. Eventually, we’ll get some medical personnel back here as well — once the Japs are cleared out. Clearing out Japs happens to be our job, by the way, so we are going to get back to it.”

Deke was ready enough. Like the others, he’d had a decent night’s sleep. He felt a dull ache from the bourbon — although he hadn’t imbibed all that much, as he was not a big drinker. Ingram and Alphabet appeared sluggish. Even Tony Cruz wore a look of regret on his lined face after celebrating with his countrymen. Yoshio was the only one who hadn’t been drinking. Instead, he had hit it off with a pretty young Chamorro woman who seemed to view him as a conquering hero. Yoshio had slipped off with her and only returned before dawn. The lieutenant had noticed, but he hadn’t said a word.

“Don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Deke said. “I wouldn’t have thought you got much sleep last night, kid. What was her name, anyhow?”

Yoshio blushed deeply but managed to stammer, “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

“A gentleman, huh? Then what’s stopping you?”

Yoshio just blushed even deeper until he looked like a ripe mango.

Philly won the prize for looking the worst for wear. “I knew I shouldn’t have had that second drink,” he said, shaking his head. By “drink” he meant a tin mug filled to the brim with bourbon. He groaned.

“Hey, where’s your sword?”

“I traded it to one of those girls.”

“Traded your precious sword? Must have been for something good. I saw you two sneaking off for a while.”

“Honestly, I don’t remember much, but I hope I got something good out of it.” Philly groaned again.

“I reckon it’s a good thing the Japs didn’t attack us last night,” Deke said. “They would have stuck a bayonet in your drunken ass.”

“That would have been all right with me. I don’t think I would have felt a thing last night,” Philly said. He rubbed his forehead before putting his helmet back on. “But if a Jap so much as shouts loud at me this morning, I might surrender.”

Deke grinned. He figured it was a small price to pay for the good time they’d had the night before. He’d gone easy on the booze. His mild headache was nothing compared to some of the hangovers he had experienced on leave in Hawaii or Baltimore. In Baltimore, it was easy enough to get carried away on the Block, the section of the city that welcomed soldiers and sailors on leave with neon-lit bars, flowing National Bohemian beer, and strip clubs. He’d even visited Sadie on leave, but he had behaved himself around his sister.

“All right, boys. I know we had some fun last night, but everybody snap out of it and get your heads on straight,” Lieutenant Steele said. “We’re moving out again.”

Hundreds of cheering Chamorros, many waving flags, sent them on their way. Small boys ran alongside them for a half mile before turning back. With Tony Cruz once again leading the way, they headed into the hills where the Chamorros said the Japanese had last been seen.

Deke was eager to get moving again. He was glad that they had liberated the Chamorros and gotten them some help, but there had been far too many people in the camp. He actually welcomed the quiet that they found moving along the path. The heavy jungle had thinned out, and they passed through palm groves and rolling hills covered by the ever-present kunai grass. The tall grass stirred in the breeze, filling the air with a constant whispering. Deke was reminded of the spring woods back home and the way that the May breeze rustled the new leaves.

Like the others, Tony Cruz quickly shook off the morning fug and moved more confidently down the trail. Deke walked a few paces behind him. An hour passed and the hot tropical sun rose higher.

Suddenly, the Chamorro guide froze. Deke froze right behind him. He had also seen the movement in the tall grass ahead.

The trail led into a series of rolling hills. They soon reached a deep ravine, almost like a moat in front of the first big grassy hillock. They could see the trail cutting through the grass across the hillock, but first the path led down into the ravine.

Good place for an ambush, Deke thought. If he’d been a Jap, it was where he would have set a trap. The enemy soldiers they’d spotted had been moving in the grass sloping down into the ravine. If the Japanese had been just a little quicker, Deke and the guide wouldn’t have seen them at all, and Patrol Easy would have walked right into the Japanese killing zone.

Lieutenant Steele came up, crouching low. The tall grass gave them some concealment but nothing in the way of cover — anything that might stop a bullet.

“What do you see?” he whispered.

“Japs,” Deke said. “We saw them clear as day. There’s at least half a dozen hidden in the grass down in that ravine, maybe more.”

“Damn,” Steele said. He took off his helmet and scratched his sweaty, matted hair. Deke noticed again that the lieutenant’s hair was flecked with more than a few strands of gray. Steele put his helmet back on.

“I can sneak up there and get a look at them,” Deke said, starting to move forward.

The lieutenant grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “Hang on, Deke. You might be walking right into a nest of Japs. I don’t want to lose my best shot just yet. Besides, our orders are to reconnoiter, not engage the enemy.”

“It’s a long way around that ravine,” Deke said doubtfully. “We’d lose most of a day going around it.”

“You only saw half a dozen Japs? Maybe we can shake them loose.”

Steele took out his binoculars and glassed the ravine. Deke followed his example and used the scope to look for any sign of the enemy.

Tony Cruz crouched beside them, watching and waiting. Without the benefit of optics, it was next to impossible to spot the Japanese hidden in the grass below.

To Deke’s surprise, he spotted movement in a tree ahead — and then a second tree. Two Japanese soldiers were shimmying into position. He could see that one of them had a rifle with a telescopic sight, much like Deke’s own weapon. The range was extreme, so the sniper had clearly been planning for the Americans to come much closer before opening fire.

“Snipers,” Deke said.

“Where?”

“Those trees down in that ravine. Four o’clock.”

Steele glassed the ravine for a long moment. His binoculars were much more powerful than Deke’s riflescope, but then again, he had only one good eye. “Now I see them. Goddamn, Deke. You’ve got good eyes. The question is: Can you hit them from here?”

“Gonna find out.”

It was a difficult shot to make from a standing position, without the benefit of anything to rest the rifle on. The breeze and the waving branches of the trees didn’t help matters. However, Deke could see one of the enemy soldiers clearly enough through the pattern of branches. He lined up the crosshairs just where he wanted them and squeezed the trigger.