CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

From behind them, they heard the horns and bugles that the Japs sometimes blew in battle. The Japs didn’t seem to care about being quiet. In fact, it was as if they wanted to let their quarry know that they were being hunted.

The bleating noises made Deke’s skin crawl, and he moved even faster through the brush, leading the others toward the sea. If the Japs wanted to make him feel like a hunted rabbit, they were successful. He reached a tangle of vines that had woven themselves into an impenetrable net, blocking the direction that he wanted to go in. He was bushwhacking rather than following any kind of trail — not that there were any trails to follow. The tangle spread in both directions, and he didn’t want to take the time to go around it. Each moment that passed, those bleating horns seemed to grow closer.

Sweat ran down from under the brim of his jungle hat and stung his eyes. The still air seemed to wrap around him like a suffocating gauze. He took a moment to catch his breath. He swiped at his face with the back of his hand and thought about what to do next.

He shouldered his rifle and drew his bowie knife. The blade wasn’t as long as that of the bolo knives favored by the Filipino guerrillas, but it was hefty enough, and razor sharp.

With a grunt, he swung at the vines in front of his face. The blade cut through most of the way before it lost momentum and got hung up in the thickest of the vines, as big around as his forearm. Deke pulled back his arm and slashed again at the green notch that his knife had made. He swung again and the vine parted. Stroke by stroke, he began hacking a path directly through the net of vines.

“Need some help?” Yoshio asked. One of the Filipinos had given Yoshio a bolo knife, and he stood shoulder to shoulder with Deke, attacking the vines blocking their path.

As if the vines weren’t bad enough, there were all sorts of spiderwebs here, along with massive spiders that barely troubled themselves to get out of the way. What did these things catch in their webs, he wondered, birds? Snakes and spiders didn’t much bother Deke, but these critters were so big that they were hard to ignore. Then again, if the Japs caught up to them, spiders would be the least of their worries. Still, having the sticky webs cling to his face and hands gave him the creepy crawlies.

Once they had an opening big enough to force his body into, he squeezed through the wall of vines and reached relatively open forest on the other side. Yoshio followed right behind him.

“Keep moving,” he said to the others. “Ain’t nothin’ to it from here.”

It turned out that Deke had spoken too soon. He took a few more steps through the jungle and started to put his foot down in the patch of greenery ahead, but something didn’t feel right. He stopped in mid stride and put out an arm to stop Yoshio, who had come up beside him, ready to surge past Deke.

“What is it?” Yoshio asked, bringing his rifle up.

“It’s not Japs,” Deke said, nodding at the forest ahead, where the branches opened up, revealing open air. “But don’t take another step. It’s a long way down.”

It became clear that they were standing at the edge of a ravine that plunged down twenty or thirty feet — it was hard to tell exactly because of the dense vegetation at the bottom. Thick vines snaked down from the trees overhead into the shadows below.

A quick investigation showed that the ravine was maybe twelve feet across, fracturing the hill for as far as they could see in both directions, like the crooked smile of a jack-o’-lantern. They just didn’t have time to go around it, which meant that they had to get across.

Deke wondered if they could jump the ravine. Maybe he could jump it with a running start, if it had been possible to get up enough speed through all the vegetation, and if he wasn’t weighed down by soggy combat boots and gear. It was as if the hill itself was playing a final trick on them, keeping the other side of the ravine just out of reach, making sure that they wouldn’t leave.

Behind them, the sound of the Japanese bugles became louder and more insistent. The rest of Patrol Easy found itself staring at the ravine, wondering what to do.

“Now what?” Philly asked.

“We have to get across that ravine, that’s what,” Honcho said.

“I can jump it,” Yoshio said.

“No, you can’t,” said Honcho, who had apparently done his own mental calculations. “It’s too wide. You’ll end up stuck in the bottom with a broken leg, or worse.”

Deke had come too far to give up now. There was only one thing to do, foolhardy as it seemed.

“Aw, to hell with it,” he said.

He shouldered his rifle again and took out his bowie knife, then used it to cut through one of the vines hanging within reach. With the bottom end cut loose from the ravine, the vine could now swing freely. He gave it a good tug — it seemed sturdy.

“It’ll be just like when me and Sadie used to swing out over the creek at our old swimmin’ hole,” he said, as much to convince himself as anyone.

“You’re not going to—”

Deke grabbed the vine with his wiry arms and pushed off from the edge of the ravine. He felt the burn of friction as his hands slipped a little, and he held on tighter, hugging the vine with his knees to give him momentum. He told himself not to look down, but he did it anyway, glimpsing a blur of rotting tree trunks and moss-covered rocks far below. Then the far side of the ravine was beneath his feet and he dropped down. He barely cleared the gap and would have fallen in if he hadn’t caught himself on the vine, holding on to it for dear life.

“You crazy redneck,” Philly shouted. Once he saw that Deke had made it, he added, “Hey, swing that vine back over here!”

Lieutenant Steele still seemed to be considering whether or not this was a good idea, but by then Deke had sent the vine back, and Philly was swinging across the ravine.

But he didn’t have enough momentum. Or maybe he just hadn’t had much occasion to swing on vines back in the city. The arc of his swing ended before he could get his feet on solid ground, and he started to swing back over the void below.

“Oh crap!” he cried.

Seeing that Philly was in trouble, Ball shouted to the men still on the edge of the ravine, “Grab my belt!”

Bat immediately figured out what Ball was up to. The tall marine got one hand on the back of his buddy’s belt just before Ball leaned out and gave Philly a powerful shove that sent him flying back in the other direction.

Philly yelped. On the far side, Deke grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him the rest of the way until Philly got his boots under him.

Both men stood for a moment, hearts pounding, panting from the effort. But this was no time to rest.

“Hurry it up!” Honcho shouted. “These Japs are getting so close that I can smell what they had for breakfast.”

Indeed, they could hear excited shouts mixed in now with the horns. The vine went back across six more times until all the soldiers had crossed the ravine. It had to be some kind of record for the most swings on a jungle vine — it would have put Tarzan to shame. Ball insisted on being the last one across, and he finally came swinging at them with all the momentum of a wrecking ball before he crashed into the brush on what was now their side of the ravine.

They were not a moment too soon. Amid the forest vegetation on the other side, they detected movement. At first, it seemed as if their eyes might be playing tricks on them. Then dozens of Japanese soldiers slowly materialized, spread out in a wide line. Several of the Japanese had twigs or leaves stuck into their helmets, helping them blend into the vegetation. Most of the Japs had bayonets on the ends of their rifles, poking at the shrubs and clumps of brush. They still hadn’t spotted the Americans on the other side of the ravine.

It was time to slip away, but not quite yet.

“Let’s give them something to think about,” Honcho said.

He raised his shotgun and fired, peppering the Japs with buckshot. The other raiders opened fire. Deke picked out a man who had reached the edge of the ravine and was in the process of raising his rifle to return fire. Deke’s bullet caught him in the belly, and the man lost his balance and fell into the ravine, his scream cut short when he crashed into the rocks and fallen logs at the bottom.

The Japanese were not surprised for long, however. They began to return fire, their bullets chewing up the greenery. The two groups were almost within spitting distance. More and more Japanese emerged from the forest and congregated at the edge of the ravine, quickly outnumbering the raiders.

“Go!” Honcho shouted, and they kept going down the hill. Ahead of them, the trees were already starting to clear, and glimpses of blue water became visible in the distance.

Philly whooped. “That ravine will slow down those Japs. I’d sure like to see them cross that thing. Knowing the Japs, they’ll probably stop and build a bridge.”

“I wonder why they don’t all just swing across like we did?”

“Maybe they’ve never seen a Tarzan movie in Japan.”

“Don’t matter,” Deke said, leading the patrol a couple of steps ahead of Philly. He had his rifle held in his hands again, eyes roving in all directions on the landscape ahead. “They don’t have to cross the ravine.”

“Sure they do! They’ll never catch us.”

“Philly, if you were a Jap, where do you think we’d be headed?”

“To the beach.” Then Philly got it. “Uh-oh.”

“Deke is right,” said Honcho. “They know where we’re going, so there might be a welcome party for us down there. Everybody stay alert.”

Behind them, the ravine must have thwarted the Japanese pursuers, at least for now. The Nips had even given up on blowing their annoying horns while they worked out a way around the ravine.

They reached the beach, but what they saw in the ocean nearby prompted them to remain in the cover provided by the forest’s edge. To their astonishment, they saw that it was some kind of Japanese naval vessel, slowly cruising past the beach area. Even without the scope, Deke could see the meatball flag flying from the pagoda mast. He put the rifle to his shoulder so he could get a better view through the scope. The ship was close enough that he could see the Jap sailors on it. Sailors stood at the rail, scanning the beach and surrounding waters. He figured it must be some sort of Jap battleship. The ship certainly bristled with guns.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and sink that ship with your rifle?” Philly said nervously. “Their guns are a whole lot bigger than ours.”

“I reckon it might be worth a try,” Deke remarked. “If I pick off a couple of those Japs on deck, they’ll never know what hit ’em.”

“Hold your fire,” said Honcho, who was glassing the ship through binoculars. “Philly is right, for once. I guess the Jap navy isn’t done yet.”

As the ship sailed out of sight, the raiders emerged onto the sand and discovered that, so far, they had the beach to themselves. There wasn’t a Jap around, but for how long?

Honcho looked at his wristwatch. Almost high noon. They were right on schedule for the pickup, but there was no rescue boat in sight, and no sound of any approaching motor. With the Jap navy on patrol, who could blame them?

With a sinking feeling, the men realized that the lack of any rescue boat meant that the navy boys had either forgotten them or had decided that they weren’t worth the risk. These were still Japanese waters, after all, as evidenced by the enemy ship they had just seen. Getting even a small US Navy vessel to the beach — and back to the ship — wasn’t going to be a pleasure cruise. Another possibility was that things had gotten too hot for the ship that must be waiting just over the horizon. The Jap navy was still out there, along with all their snooper planes and Betty bombers, which were hell on navy ships. The nervous skipper might have withdrawn to a safer distance.

“Rodeo, do you still have that flare gun?”

“Sure do, Honcho.”

“Then go ahead and fire a flare, just to remind those navy boys that we’re here.”

Philly spoke up. “Sir, you do know that once we fire that flare, we’re going to let every Jap in the vicinity know that we’re here too?”

“Geez, Philly. Since when do you get paid to think? I wouldn’t worry too much about alerting the Japs, because I’m sure they’ll figure out where we are soon enough,” the lieutenant said. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but I’d sure as hell like to get off this beach. The sooner, the better. Does anyone else have any bright ideas on how to do that?”

When no one else spoke up, Lieutenant Steele nodded at Rodeo. “Fire the flare, son.”

Rodeo stepped a few feet away, raised the flare gun, and fired it into the tropical sky. The flare ignited and arced down toward the sea, burning brightly until it disappeared far from land.

“If those navy squids didn’t see that, they must be blind,” Philly muttered. “I know that the Japs sure as hell didn’t miss it.”

“I’d tell you to smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em,” Honcho said. “But that would be a really bad idea right now.”

All that they could do was settle down and wait. There wasn’t a bit of cover, aside from a few scattered chunks of tropical driftwood. Deke didn’t like being so exposed, not one bit. They were putting an awful lot of faith in the hope that the navy had not forgotten them.

He took up a prone position, his boots practically in the surf, literally at the edge of the island, his elbows propped in the sand. From there he could see the entire sweep of beach in both directions.

He didn’t have to wait long for the enemy to show up. To Deke’s surprise, they materialized from the edge of the jungle growth where it met the beach. This must be the same Japanese who had pursued them off the hill until they had been thwarted by the ravine. Deke was curious as to how the Japs had finally gotten around the ravine, but he doubted that he’d be able to ask them that anytime soon.

The others were so busy intently watching the ocean for any sign of the navy boat that they didn’t even see the Japanese appear.

“We’ve got company,” Deke said.

There were no more than thirty Japanese, but they far outnumbered the men of Patrol Easy, who were exposed on the beach. Deke was reminded of that day on Guam when they had decided to go swimming and they had been caught out in the open by Japanese snipers. Once again, they had nowhere to go.

Deke decided to make the first move. He spotted an officer, who wore a field cap instead of the helmets worn by the enlisted men. He hoped that it was the same Jap officer who had cut off the Filipinos’ heads. Nothing would have given him more pleasure, he thought, as he lined up the crosshairs on the officer and squeezed the trigger.

The man crumpled.

He ran the bolt and picked out another target.

Deke had picked off the officer, but the Jap soldiers didn’t need any commands to know what to do next. They began firing at the Americans, but they did not advance toward them across the beach. Why should they, Deke thought, when they could just take their time and pick off our guys out here in the open?

Bullets whined overhead, snapping through the humid air.

“Everybody down!” Honcho shouted, and the others threw themselves flat onto the sand, joining Deke.

Deke noticed that one of the Japanese hadn’t retreated into the relative cover of the jungle fringe. He also hadn’t thrown himself flat but stood in plain sight, as if taunting the Americans, or perhaps showing his disdain for them. He was just far enough away that he made a difficult target.

But he wasn’t so far away that Deke couldn’t study him through the scope, picking out a few details. He realized that the soldier also had a scoped rifle. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, but he wasn’t an officer either. He wore the Japanese field cap that was emblazoned with a star, with cloth hanging from the back of the hat to shelter the neck from the sun. The cap was practical for use in the tropics and uniquely oriental in appearance. Deke thought the Jap looked awfully familiar.

With a jolt, Deke realized that this must be the same Japanese sniper he had tangled with back on the hill. He was definitely a cocky son of a bitch, reminding him in some ways of the Samurai Sniper that Deke had run into on Guam. Two different snipers, but cut from the same cloth. What was with these Japs? He wondered if they all thought of themselves as ancient samurai warriors for the Emperor.

But the days of spears and swords were long over, he thought, lining up the rifle for a shot at the man.

As he did so, a bullet passed within inches of his head, reminding Deke that the Jap was also a good shot. He willed his prone body to sink deeper into the sand, the mad hornet whine of the small-caliber bullet sending shivers down to his toes. He couldn’t tell for certain at this distance, but he was pretty sure that the Jap sniper had been looking right at him when he’d fired, delivering a taunt along with the bullet.

Have it your way, Deke thought.

Letting out a breath, he put the crosshairs on the Jap’s chest, held a little high. It was kind of a long poke. Nothing fancy at this distance, he told himself. If he hit the Jap anywhere in the chest, a rifle round traveling at more than two thousand feet per second would take care of business.

There was always wind at the beach, but it was coming in off the sea, getting behind his shot, which suited Deke just fine. The good side of his face was pressed against the stock, making the angry scars more visible. His gray eyes were hard as mountain granite as he fixed them on the target through the scope.

His finger started to take up tension on the trigger. Through the scope, he’d have sworn that the Jap sniper was aiming right back at him. It was anybody’s guess whose bullet was going to leave the muzzle first.

“Hey, here comes a boat!” Philly shouted. “It’s got to be one of our guys. I guess those squids didn’t forget us, after all.”

A volley of whoops and cheers rose from the throats of the men on the beach. Distracted, Deke eased up on the trigger.

They had heard the roaring motor before they saw it, but sure enough, a small craft came racing in from just beyond the surf line. It looked as if he’d been waiting far enough out that the gray hull blended in with the surrounding Pacific, maybe even just over the nautical horizon visible from the beach. No matter, the boat was here now, piloted by a lone man.

The extraction time had been chosen in part because it would be high tide, enabling the boat to come in much closer than it had when dropping them off a day and a half ago. Had it really been just thirty-six hours? Deke thought that it felt like a century.

He turned his full attention back to the Jap, but the enemy sniper’s attention seemed to have shifted. He was no longer aiming at Deke but had shifted his rifle to point in another direction.

At the boat.

The Jap wasn’t aiming at Deke anymore because he was going to shoot the helmsman in the rescue boat. With their escape route cut off, the Japs could then take their time picking off the raiders — or capturing them and cutting off their heads.

Deke wasn’t the only one who had noticed that the sniper planned to target the rescue boat. Nearby, Lieutenant Steele was watching the Japanese through a pair of binoculars.

“Deke—”

“I see him.”

Deke knew that he had to shoot this son of a bitch — and fast. Quickly, he realigned the rifle—

His attention was interrupted by a sound that drowned out the pop of the enemy rifles. It was louder than the boat motor, growing in intensity to a screech, then building to a terrible sky-splitting roar, like a whole freight train was rumbling through the sky.

“Everybody down!” Honcho shouted.

The Jap sniper forgotten for the moment, Deke buried his face in the sand as a volley of five-inch shells arrived. The shells plowed into the forest where it grew close to the beach. Entire trees shattered and cracked, scattering splinters in all directions. Great gouts of dirt and rock erupted like volcanoes.

Somebody on that navy ship was looking out for them. Still, they had been taking a huge chance that the team had managed to knock out the deadly battery on Hill 522. That was faith for you, all right. If the shoreline was within range of the Ingersoll, it also meant that the Ingersoll was within range of any shore batteries.

Deke had thought that he was a good shot, but he had to give those navy gunners credit. Talk about a long poke. The ship was nowhere in sight. It was all the more impressive, considering that they couldn’t even see the target. Then again, all they had to do was get their shells close. The several pounds of high explosives in each shell did the rest.

An instant later, another volley roared in, striking a little farther inland. Again, the destruction looked spectacular, a bit of Armageddon visited upon the forest.

It was hard to say if the Japanese troops had been killed or not, but when Deke raised his head again, they were nowhere in sight. Bits of shattered trees and even boulders littered the sand near where the Japanese had been, with a blackened shell crater smoking nearby.

As for the Japanese sniper, it looked as if Deke wasn’t going to get his chance to see who the better shot was, after all. The sniper was gone, either blasted into oblivion or hiding within the jungle perimeter.

“Let’s go!”

The men didn’t need to be told twice. The boat had come in as close to shore as it could, but the men still had to splash their way toward the boat. The water was deep enough that it made climbing aboard difficult. The helmsman couldn’t help much because he was occupied trying to keep the boat from capsizing in the six-foot waves cresting as they rolled toward the beach. Luckily, the Japanese ship that they had seen earlier had not reappeared or opened fire on the US ship over the horizon. Perhaps it suited the Japanese to stay out of sight for now.

Yoshio managed to wriggle up the side, then helped the others aboard, one by one.

To their surprise, at the helm was the same sailor who had brought them in.

“Boy, are we glad to see you,” Philly announced.

“You dogfaces will do anything for a boat ride, won’t you?” said the tough old salt, a grin creasing his leathery face. “Maybe you want to take a little shoreline cruise and see the sights?”

“Aw, wouldn’t you know it that we forgot our picnic basket,” Philly said.

“All right, all right,” Honcho said. “You guys are cracking us up. Just get us the hell out of here.”

The helmsman obliged by swinging the wheel around and ramming the throttle forward, leaving a foaming wake behind as they raced toward the navy vessel waiting over the horizon.

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