Running for their lives, the soldiers of Patrol Easy headed for cover in the forest. To their surprise, the Japanese did not bother to give chase. The angry shouts of pursuit faded, although the occasional rifle still cracked behind them. But the soldiers were out of sight and under cover — the Japanese were shooting at nothing.
Despite the furious cries of outrage over the surprise attack, the Japanese officers had called their men back before they reached the line of vegetation at the bottom of Hill 522. Lucky for them, the Japanese had not bothered to clear out the jungle growth at the base of the hill, although the hillside itself was mostly bare of trees. Deke and the others were more than happy to lose themselves in the lush greenery. They caught their breath and regrouped.
“Why the hell aren’t they coming after us?” Philly wanted to know, pausing in his flight just long enough to look back toward the hill.
“They probably don’t know if this is a raid or the start of the big attack they’ve been waiting for,” Steele explained. “For all the Japs know, there could be an entire division down here, waiting to hit them where it hurts.”
“You mean they’re afraid of us?” Philly asked in disbelief. “You could have fooled me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Say what you want about the Japs, but they’re not stupid. Maybe they thought this was a feint to draw them off the hill. The last thing they want to do is leave that hill unprotected.”
“Thank God for that!”
“Don’t count your blessings yet, Philly. There’s still an awful lot of Japs and just a few of us. Let’s just be grateful that they aren’t coming after us.”
Nobody could argue with that. As he loped along at the back of the group, Deke kept looking behind him, expecting at any moment to see a horde of angry enemy soldiers emerge from the wall of vegetation, no matter what Honcho said.
But Honcho seemed to have called it right as usual, and no one came after them. The Japanese had grown cautious. The hill quickly disappeared behind a screen of trees and brush. They could have been utterly alone if they hadn’t known about the thousands of Japanese, just out of sight. The jungle growth was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it hid them well. On the other hand, an entire enemy reconnaissance patrol might be lurking behind the next shrub.
Right now, they had more immediate concerns. First of all, they had a wounded man. Ball was helping Bat along. The tall marine had been wounded in the shoulder by the Japanese sniper. Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with his legs. He was mobile, but he was in plenty of pain.
Once they had gone deep into the brush, Steele called a halt.
“All right, everybody, no sense running scared if nobody’s chasing us. Deke, keep an eye out and shoot anything that moves.”
“Yep,” Deke replied laconically. It went without saying that Deke was already on it, with his rifle pointed in the direction of their back trail.
“How’s that shoulder?” the lieutenant asked Bat.
“I guess I’ll live.”
“Let me take a look.” Honcho crouched beside Bat, who was taking a drink from his canteen. He grimaced as Lieutenant Steele poked at the wound. “It looks like the bullet went through and through, as far as I can tell. You’re lucky.”
“The Japs are gonna have to do better than that to take me out,” Bat said. “It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch, huh? If you say so. All right, let’s patch you up as best we can for now. Rodeo, have you still got some of that sulfa powder I gave you? I’ve got to say, I wish Egan was still here. He might not be an actual medic, but he did a good job of patching us up on Guam.”
But Egan wasn’t there, so they would have to fix Bat up as best as they could. Having a wounded man weighing them down was one of the worst scenarios that they could find themselves in, given their current situation. Considering their mission, it would have been much better for a man to simply be killed outright. However, Bat still seemed mobile enough. He gritted his teeth and didn’t say a word as Honcho moved to patch him up. One thing for sure, the marine was a tough son of a bitch. As for Honcho, he had patched up his share of wounds, and his fingers deftly bandaged the arm.
“What’s the plan now, Honcho?” Philly wondered. He scowled at Rodeo. “If we still had that radio, I guess we’d be calling for help right about now. There’s no way we can get anywhere near those guns now that the Japs know we’re here.”
Steele glared in Philly’s direction. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Radio or not, we’re not going anywhere until we take out those guns. That was why we were sent here, and that’s what we’re going to do. In just a few days, there will be thousands of our boys headed for that beach, not to mention who knows how many ships just offshore. Do you want that battery to still be in operation?”
Philly looked away and shook his head. “I guess not.”
“I hope to hell not. It would be a slaughter. No, it’s our job to take out that battery, no matter what. If there’s just one of us left who can still crawl up there and toss a grenade at it, then that’s what we have to do. Understood?”
Philly nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The others grunted. Nobody liked this situation, but they all knew what they needed to do, one way or another. Those guns had to be destroyed.
“Good,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t want to hear any more talk of radios or rescue. We can worry about that once we take out that gun.”
“You got it, Honcho.”
The lieutenant gave orders to keep moving, just to put added distance between themselves and the enemy soldiers on the hill.
Keeping his eyes wide open and his finger on the trigger, Deke threaded his way through the forest at the base of the hill, sticking to the thickest vegetation to stay under cover. This was not the heaviest jungle that he had encountered in the Pacific, but there was no doubt that a Japanese patrol might be heading toward them, and they would have no warning before the two groups ran right into each other.
On hyperalert, something caught Deke’s ears — or maybe his eyes. He couldn’t even identify if it was a flicker in the bush or an unnatural sound that didn’t belong, but it was there all the same. A boyhood spent in the mountains had made him keenly attuned to anything out of place in the natural world, much the way that a musician’s senses might be jarred by a false note.
He signaled to the others behind him to halt, and then moved forward silently on his own. Was it a Japanese patrol? Surely, the enemy must be combing the forest, looking for them. Deke doubted that he could do much against an enemy force of any size, except hold them off long enough to buy the others time to slip away.
The long green fronds of a small tree hung down in front of him, and he used his rifle barrel to push them aside. It was like pulling back a curtain, revealing a small clearing in the forest.
What Deke saw next was unexpected.
Within the middle of the clearing stood a man in a black robe and a clerical collar. Deke was no expert on religion, but he knew enough to recognize a Catholic priest when he saw one.
Beside him stood two tough-looking Filipinos wearing rope-soled sandals and ragged clothing. They held Japanese rifles that had most likely been liberated from the occupying enemy. Improbably, one of the men wore a bedraggled pinstriped dress shirt with a contrasting collar that made him look like a disgraced banker. When they saw Deke emerging from the forest and realized that he wasn’t a Japanese soldier, the two Filipinos lowered their weapons. Slowly, Deke did the same.
The priest put his finger to his lips. Deke nodded. The priest pointed into the wall of vegetation to one side of the clearing.
All at once, Deke heard footsteps and muffled voices moving through the forest. Definitely a Japanese patrol, and there was no doubt as to their purpose. They were hunting the infiltrators. It was hard to say how far away the enemy patrol was — hidden from view, and considering how the vegetation played tricks with how sound traveled, the Japanese might have been fifty feet away, or a quarter of a mile.
All four men held their breath until the sounds of the patrol faded and disappeared. Behind Deke, the rest of Patrol Easy moved up. Soon, they all stood in the clearing, regarding the three men they had discovered in the forest.
The priest spoke first.
“I am Father Francisco,” the priest said in gently accented English. “I heard the shooting and knew that it wasn’t any of my men. I was wondering what was going on and thought it might be American commandos. We heard rumors that a boat had landed during the night. We were hoping that we might find you before the Japanese did.”
“There’s just the three of you?” the lieutenant asked.
“There are others nearby,” the priest said, then looked around at the soldiers, seeming puzzled. “I am afraid that you are going to need more men than that to fight the Japanese.”
“Don’t worry about that, Padre,” said Honcho, stepping forward to shake the priest’s hand. “I’m Lieutenant Steele.”
“Father Francisco de los Santos.”
“Good to meet you, Padre. Like I said, there’s plenty more where we came from. They’ll be landing on this island soon enough.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“What are you doing out here in the jungle? Last time I saw a priest, he was in a church.”
The priest shook his head. “Sadly, the Japanese have little use for priests or churches. Since the occupation, they have arrested most of the priests and even our sisters.” The priest shuddered, and it was hard to tell whether it was from anger or sadness. “I have been living out here for the last year, doing what I can to minister to men like these who are fighting against the occupiers. I pray with them, I bandage their wounds, I help them bury their dead.”
It was clear that the two Filipinos didn’t understand a word of English. The priest turned to them and seemed to offer an explanation in their own language, nodding at the Americans. The two men nodded curtly, watching the GIs and marines with wary eyes. These guerrilla fighters were clearly tough customers. However, their stony faces melted into smiles as the priest apparently went into more detail. Finally, it seemed, help was on the way after their lonely fight against the occupation forces.
“I have told them that you are the first of many more soldiers,” Father Francisco said. “Our prayers have been answered. They won’t be fighting on their own for much longer.”
On closer inspection, it was clear that Father Francisco had been living rough. His cassock was torn in places and roughly sewn back together, but clean enough, considering the circumstances. His collar must have been bright white once, but it was now a grayish brown. He was taller and heavier than the two guerrilla fighters and lighter skinned, hinting at Spanish ancestry. He was overdue for a shave, his chin covered in graying stubble, and the priest’s hair reached nearly to his collar. With his unkempt appearance and the tattered clerical robes, he could have passed for a mad holy man in the wilderness.
“With all due respect, Padre, it’s going to take more than prayers to defeat the Japanese,” Honcho said.
The priest gave a devilish smile that was disconcerting to see on the face of a man of God. Deke decided that this was no milksop preacher, but more of a fire-and-brimstone sort. Then again, he had explained that he was a Jesuit, and they hadn’t been known for backing down from any challenge. Deke took an instant liking to him.
“I am not a soldier,” Father Francisco said. “I carry no weapons but my faith. I cannot harm another human being. That would be wrong, of course. But I do not think God will mind if I help men like these do what I cannot do myself. They will see to the bullets. I will see to their souls.”
“Seems like a good arrangement,” Honcho agreed. “Can’t argue with that.”
“As I said before, we heard the shooting,” the priest said. “What happened?”
“That was us. I suppose the Japanese are looking for us.”
“They tend to be noisy when they are on patrol, thank God,” the priest said. “That’s the second patrol we’ve heard today. You’ve certainly stirred them up.”
“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to stir them up some more,” Honcho said. “You see, there’s a gun battery at the top of the hill, and we’re here to take it out.”
The priest nodded. “The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
“The what?”
“Sorry, I am afraid that’s just a poor attempt at humor on my part. That is the nickname that I’ve given those three guns. We know all about them.”
“Our code name for those guns is Cerberus.”
Father Francisco nodded. “Of course. The three-headed monster that guards the entrance to Hades.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that a Catholic priest would be versed in mythology.”
“And I would not have thought that I would be living in the jungle, having been ejected from my church by the Japanese. These are strange times.”
“Good point,” Honcho agreed.
“How do you propose to ‘take it out,’ as you say?”
“I don’t think we have much choice but to attack right up the middle. That’s our plan for now. With any luck, we’ll get close enough, especially if we can surprise them again.”
Father Francisco scratched his chin, seeming to think that over. “I am sorry, but that is not a very good plan.”
“Is that right?” The lieutenant scratched his own chin, thinking it over. “Have you got a better plan, Padre?”
The priest smiled devilishly again. His brown eyes sparkled. There was definitely some Spanish conquistador in him somewhere. “You want to reach the top of the hill? As a matter of fact, I do have a better plan for doing just that. But first, I suggest that we leave this area. The Japanese are very methodical in their patrols. I believe they search using a grid pattern. They missed us last time, but they won’t miss us again. We need to move to a more secure area to wait for dark, and then to spend the night.”
“Where would we go?”
“Leave that to me,” the priest said. He nodded at the Filipino guerrilla on his left flank — the one wearing the pinstriped shirt — and the man immediately turned and led the way into the jungle.
At a signal from Honcho, Deke was the first to follow him. Immediately, Deke was impressed by the Filipino’s woodcraft. He slipped through the jungle with barely a sound or without any hesitation, apparently sure of exactly where he was going, although there wasn’t any trail to speak of. Once or twice, the man looked back as if to see if Deke was following him. He grunted with satisfaction, apparently pleased at Deke’s own ability to move silently through the greenery, then pressed on deeper into the tangle of vegetation. The rest of Patrol Easy, along with the priest and the other Filipino guerrilla, followed in their wake.