Savage Sniper

CHAPTER ONE

Still as stone, Deacon Cole stared through the rifle scope at the ravine directly across from him.

His eye had caught a flicker of movement in that ravine, indicating that Patrol Easy might be walking into an ambush. Maybe it had been only a bird, or some small jungle animal, but his gut told another story. Trusting your gut was the best way to stay alive.

“What is it?” Philly whispered.

“I think I saw something.”

“When you’re nervous, then I know I ought to be nervous.”

“I ain’t nervous,” Deke said. “I’m just trying not to get shot.”

“If that doesn’t make you nervous, then I don’t know what does,” Philly replied.

“Hush now and let me think.”

Philly had his own sniper rifle to his shoulder, peering through the telescopic sight at the tangled vegetation ahead. Though useful, the scope amplified just a small circle of greenery.

It didn’t help that the dense vegetation could have hidden an entire Japanese company, let alone a single sniper. Deke stayed on the scope and waited, staring in hopes of catching the smallest flicker of movement, confident that Philly was watching his back.

Although Philly also carried a sniper rifle, there was no doubt about which of the two men was the better shot. In situations like this, Philly defaulted to being the spotter, keeping an eye on the big picture so that Deke could stay focused on whatever he saw through the narrow field of the rifle scope.

After all, it had been Deke who had spotted something in the ravine. He seemed to have a sixth sense about these things. When Deke said something didn’t feel right, nobody argued.

During their months of fighting, starting with their arrival on Guam, some men had simply survived, but Deke had somehow grown more comfortable in hunting men with a rifle. Philly had also sensed this about Deke, and it sometimes made him wary of the former farm boy, the same way you might watch out for a dog that liked to bite even after you had scratched his ears.

They were in the countryside on the outskirts of Ormoc. The transition from residential areas back to forest was abrupt here, northwest of the city. To the northeast lay vast rice paddies that, in their own way, would likely prove more hazardous than the jungle.

Ormoc had finally fallen to the US Army after fierce street fighting. The port city and its nearby airfield were a vital cog in the wheel that was Leyte. Now that American forces held Ormoc, they were one step closer to taking complete control of Leyte. Of course, that was just one of the Philippine islands, but it was a key Japanese stronghold. Nobody even wanted to think as far ahead as capturing Manila.

This fight came down to one day at a time, one step at a time. That was how you eventually won the war. That was how you stayed alive.

The Japanese had been defeated at Ormoc, but they were far from beaten elsewhere in the jungles and mountains of Leyte. In one of those twists of fate, it was the Japanese who had traded places with the Filipinos, who early in the occupation had fled their villages and homes to shelter in the hills, growing whatever meager crops they could encourage in the rugged soil. Now those refugees were returning to their homes, and it was the Japanese who were taking to the hills to make their last stand.

Patrol Easy’s task was to probe this area, determining where all the enemy units were hidden. It was a job that was easier said than done. It was also a job that was necessary, hard as it might be. The last thing they needed was a clutch of enemy holdouts so close to Ormoc, giving them an easy place from which to launch insurgent attacks.

The enemy was out here, all right. Deke was certain of that. Probably closer than anybody knew. Like maybe right in front of them.

But where?

Deke set aside his rifle and took out his binoculars to scan the jungle. There was nothing but trees and bushes. He continued to look, searching for any sign of movement. Suddenly he spotted the greenery shifting as something pushed through it. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he knew it was the enemy.

“Did you see that?” Philly whispered. “Movement at your two o’clock.”

“I see it,” Deke replied in a barely audible whisper.

He signaled to the others, pointing in the direction where he had seen something moving through the trees. He held his fire, hoping for a clear target.

The rest of the squad took up positions, their weapons at the ready.

Lieutenant Steele edged closer. Steele commanded their small sniper patrol. He carried a twelve-gauge shotgun, and one eye was covered by a patch. He’d lost the eye at Guadalcanal, and it should have been the lieutenant’s ticket home. However, he claimed to have some unfinished business with the Japanese. Deke understood.

“What have you got?” Steele asked.

“There’s something up in those trees.”

“How many?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“All right. Go check it out. We don’t want to bite off more than we can chew.”

Deke nodded and began to move toward where he thought the enemy soldiers might be hidden.

The dense vegetation seemed to swallow him whole as he crept forward, his senses on high alert. He could feel his heart pounding as he searched for any sign of the enemy. Every sound seemed amplified, every rustle of leaves a potential threat.

Despite his efforts at stealth, he heard a twig snap beneath his boot. He froze, his eyes scanning the trees ahead. Sweat ran down his face, but the hands holding his rifle remained steady as ever.

Waiting, he held his breath.

But there was nothing. No movement, no sound. Just the oppressive silence of the jungle. Even the birds and ever-present insects seemed to have fallen silent.

Deke felt a moment of doubt. Had he been wrong? Was there really nobody there?

No — he had seen something. He was sure of it.

Just then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun sideways, his rifle at the ready.

A Japanese soldier was charging at him, a bayonet reflecting in the dappled sunlight under the canopy of trees. The man burst from the greenery, shouting some sort of foreign battle cry.

Deke had only a split second to react. He lifted his rifle and fired. At this range he didn’t have to aim — just point.

The soldier fell to the ground and lay still, apparently dead before he hit the forest floor. The sharp crack of Deke’s rifle had almost immediately been swallowed by the surrounding leaves and branches, leaving the forest as silent as ever.

He kept the rifle pointed at the dead Japanese, but the body didn’t stir. The soldier’s mistake had been trying to skewer Deke with his bayonet. If he’d taken a shot at Deke, the outcome might have been very different.

It turned out that the soldier who had attacked Deke wasn’t the only Japanese in hiding.

A shot rang out, and Deke froze. He heard the crack of a bullet passing overhead. Had the bullet been intended for him? It seemed likely — he was the man closest to the forest.

“Sniper!” Philly shouted, almost by reflex.

“No shit,” Deke grumbled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ever so slowly, he backpedaled through the weeds and brush. Sweat trickled down his back. An ant crept over his face, but Deke ignored it, not even bothering to flick it away.

Even in the middle of a war, with the sky filled with planes and the beaches crawling with troops, sometimes everything came down to a single bullet, especially if you were either the one trying to dodge that bullet or the one trying to deliver it.

Another shot was fired, the bullet singing through the air, close enough this time that Deke heard it whip through the brush nearby. The crack of the bullet made his skin crawl.

Dammit. Where the hell is that sniper?

Working his way backward like a retreating crab, Deke eased first his legs and then the rest of his body into a patch of kunai grass and shrubs. He kept working his way into the greenery until not even the muzzle of his rifle was visible. But it was there all the same, pointed in the direction of the enemy. All that Deke could see ahead was a wall of green.

His oasis of greenery provided cover, but like the rest of the patrol, Deke was basically pinned down. He still had no idea where the sniper was hiding, knowing only that the enemy marksman was out there somewhere close and seemed determined to put Deke in his rifle sights.

Now seemed as good a time as ever to try one of the tricks that he had up his sleeve. He remembered the metal shaving mirror in his pack.

Deke had bought it from a vendor selling all sorts of baubles in the ruins of Ormoc. Sure, he could use it for shaving, but he’d also had another idea in the back of his mind. It was just what he would need now to distract the enemy sniper.

The flat metal mirror was polished to a bright shine, much like a military-issue signal mirror. It was similar in its dimensions to the cover of one of Yoshio’s paperback Western novels. There was a hole in one end so that he could hang it from a nail and shave or maybe comb his hair. That took care of the grooming needs of your average GI, including Deke.

The wind rippled the jungle every which way, causing the foliage to flow in a dull green blur that masked any movement by the enemy. Keeping out of sight and working quickly, Deke tied the mirror into the brush nearby so that the breeze made the dangling mirror flash occasionally, a shiny bauble in the jungle to fake out and distract the enemy sniper.

The light caught the mirrored surface and flashed, surely as irresistible to the enemy sniper as a shiny lure was to a bass in Old Man Thompson’s fishing hole back home.

The enemy sniper was good, but he wasn’t good enough to escape the trap that Deke had set for him.

Sure enough, the Japanese sniper fired at the mirror.

Deke had been sure to keep well clear of the mirror, but he immediately planted his face in the dirt, wishing he had more cover. He could hear the others shouting and cursing as they took up positions and began scanning their surroundings.

“Where is he?” Steele whispered urgently.

Deke scanned the trees and foliage, his heart still hammering. He couldn’t see anything. The sniper was too well hidden.

Another shot rang out, the crack of the bullet once again passing dangerously close to Deke’s head.

Had he actually seen the muzzle flash that time, or had it been his imagination?

“He’s up in the trees,” Deke yelled, pointing at the canopy overhead.

Without another word, the rest of the patrol began firing volley after volley into the trees. Branches were ripped apart, leaves scattered in the wind, but there was no sign they had taken out the sniper.

Deke scanned the trees, searching for any sign of movement. His eyes were fixed on a patch of dense foliage high above, and he caught a glimpse of something moving.

He brought his rifle up, firing at the movement.

There was a scream, and then silence.

“I think I got him,” Deke announced, relaxing somewhat.

The silence was deafening, with only the sound of his own heartbeats filling the void, and the tension was palpable. If the sniper hadn’t been eliminated, the slightest noise could give away Deke’s position.

As he crawled across the jungle floor toward the sniper’s position, Deke couldn’t shake the feeling that the sniper was still watching him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take him out. His whole body itched with anticipation of the bullet that didn’t arrive.

He parted the foliage and looked up at the nearby trees, relieved to see the sagging corpse of the enemy sniper. The man had wedged himself into the fork of a small tree, several feet above the ground, offering a vantage point. The sniper’s rifle had fallen to the jungle floor, and Deke retrieved it, popped out the bolt, and hurled the rifle deep into the jungle. He threw the bolt in a different direction. Others would have kept the rifle as a souvenir, but he wasn’t interested in collecting trophies.

He walked back out and signaled to the rest of the patrol that the coast was clear.

“Just another day at the factory,” Philly said.

“I don’t know what the hell kind of factory you worked in, but remind me not to put in for a job there.”

Moving along the forest perimeter, they sought out any other Japanese presence. For the moment, the enemy seemed to have retreated.

They drifted back to what might be called the suburbs of Ormoc, glad to be free of the immediate threat of the Japanese.

Bone weary, they returned to the city streets that had been so hotly contested just a few days before. It was getting so that they recognized a few of the city’s landmarks. While many of the houses had been destroyed or damaged in the fighting, a few buildings remained largely intact.

“I’ve been thinking that I might buy a house here as an investment,” Philly said. “You know, get in early on some of this waterfront property. I’ll bet I could buy one of these houses cheap.”

“You may want to hold off on that, Philly,” Lieutenant Steele reminded them. “There are still a few Japanese soldiers hiding out in these houses.”

“Well, now, there goes the neighborhood,” Deke said.