Savage Sniper

CHAPTER TWENTY

At exactly two minutes before midnight, Patrol Easy and the Filipino guerrillas sprang into action. Lieutenant Steele led them out of their hiding place in the secluded clearing.

“Let’s go,” he whispered. “It’s time to move out. Everybody knows what to do. Philly? Yoshio?”

“We’re on it, Honcho,” Philly replied.

“Just remember that this isn’t the OK Corral,” Steele said. “Don’t shoot unless they shoot first. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“All right, you two get into position.”

The two snipers headed out. From outside the fence line, Philly and Yoshio would be covering the guard tower.

Through observation, they had learned that a pair of guards walked the interior of the fence line once each hour through the night. The guards were typically half-asleep and probably returned to their beds soon after completing their circuit. The guards had just made their rounds and returned to the barracks, leaving the coast clear.

The guard tower was the weakest link of their plan. The problem was that if the machine gun in that tower opened fire before the prisoners had escaped through the fence, it would be disastrous. It would be Philly and Yoshio’s job to take out the machine gunners if that happened.

By then, of course, the entire enemy garrison would be alerted by the gunfire, but at least the guards in the tower wouldn’t be shooting at them.

Steele and Father Francisco had discussed sending Danilo into the tower at the outset of the escape attempt to neutralize the guards there, but they had ultimately decided that doing so was too risky. It would have meant crossing the open ground of the prison yard and climbing the ladder into the tower without alerting the enemy, and then neutralizing them quietly. That was a tall order, even for Danilo.

Instead, the plan was to cut a hole in the fence in the one blind spot in the guard tower’s sight line, directly behind the prisoners’ barracks. Success would rely on stealth and more than a little good luck.

Again, Steele would have preferred having Deke covering the tower instead of Philly and Yoshio, but his best marksman was currently a prisoner of the Japanese. The lieutenant hoped that wouldn’t be the case for long.

That was their plan. Everything felt cobbled together, but there hadn’t been time for anything more elaborate. It remained to be seen how it would all hold together. He recalled what General Eisenhower had famously stated about plans: “In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.”

So far they really had been lucky. They had spent the better part of a day and a night under the very noses of the Japanese without being detected. That in itself was something of an accomplishment. Then again, it also spoke to the sheer density of the jungle and its ability to provide cover.

Steele had the unsettling thought that it would have been just as possible for an enemy outpost to be hidden nearby and to have gone undetected. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any signs of one or any need for it. The Japanese were safely ensconced inside the perimeter of their prison camp.

The night favored them with a waning moon, with some high cloud cover. Just a few stars poked through the gauzy fabric of the dark tropical sky. The darkness would provide a good cloak for their actions tonight.

Steele looked toward Father Francisco. The priest and guerrilla leader appeared grim, but seemed to have his band of tough Filipino fighters well in hand. He felt reassured that they were a deadly bunch, armed to the teeth right down to the wicked bolo knives hanging at their belts or strapped across their backs. The guerrillas were veterans of many missions and waited calmly for Father Francisco to give them their orders.

Because Steele couldn’t speak el lenguaje, he had to rely on the priest to communicate with the guerrillas.

“Are your men ready, Father?” Steele asked.

“We are ready,” the priest said. “We have offered up our prayers. This night is now in God’s hands.”

“Then let’s hope God is paying attention. Move out!”

The lieutenant carried a pair of wire cutters in one hand, his shotgun slung over his shoulder. Getting through the fence wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t want to rely on anyone else to get the job done.

Cautiously, he approached the perimeter fence. Although strung on rough poles made out of trees and sagging in places, the fence was deceptively strong, its patchwork appearance giving it layers that made it even more effective.

To make getting through the fence yet more difficult, the Japanese had set out rolls of barbed wire all along the exterior base of the fence. Weeds and thorny vines had grown up over that barbed wire, which had begun to rust in the damp climate. Still, the barbs were sharp enough, and he didn’t relish the thought of being ripped open by the rusty wire. The jungle wasn’t the place to get an infected wound or come down with lockjaw.

Steele crept forward and got to work with his clippers. In the darkness, he had to work by touch more than sight. Rodeo was right behind him, his hands wrapped in rags to protect them. As Steele clipped, Rodeo forced the wire and vines back to create a wider path. Crouched over, they were soon shoulder deep in the thick weeds. They could hear scurrying noises as small creatures, probably insects or rodents, got out of their way. From time to time they felt something crawling over them, which was more than a little unsettling in the dark.

“I hope to hell there’s no snakes in here,” Rodeo whispered.

“If those guards hear us, snakes will be the least of our worries. Now try to keep quiet.”

Steele was correct that they had to work with as much stealth as possible. Then again, there was only so much one could do to clip quietly through the rusty wire, but the noise of the nighttime insects did much to cloak their advance through the tangled strands. The prisoner barracks blocked their view of the guard tower, allowing them to work in one of the few blind spots along the fence line.

After several minutes dealing with the twisty rolls of barbed wire and thorny vines, they reached the fence itself. Steele had rolled down his sleeves to protect his arms, but the cloth was now shredded in a couple of places.

The two guards had already made their rounds of the interior perimeter, so Steele quickly cut several strands of the fence, and with Rodeo’s help they pulled the wire aside, creating a gap wide enough to pass through.

However, there was no one waiting for them on the other side. They had expected Deke to be there, ready to lead the prisoners out. Instead, the prison yard was empty.

They heard the sound of muffled laughter, probably from the guard tower, and then a few words of Japanese. The guards were definitely awake and alert. Steele felt his pulse pounding even heavier than it had been.

“Where the hell are they?” Rodeo whispered.

“Give them a minute,” he replied. “You know Deke. He’ll be here.”

Steele glanced at the faintly glowing hands of his watch, which showed him that it was now a few minutes after midnight. The rendezvous was behind schedule, and each minute that they lingered put them in greater danger of being discovered.

It was hard to see more than a few yards into the gloom. Taking a chance, Steele leaned forward and whispered as loudly as he dared, “Deke?”

There was no answer.

Not more than one hundred yards away, Deke remained locked inside the hot box without any hope of escape. He had no way of knowing what time it was, but he knew that the minutes were ticking away, and along with them, any opportunity for the prisoners to break out.

The broken and bleeding nails of his hands were really beginning to ache, but he made one more attempt at finding the edge of a loose board in hopes of working his way free. After a few minutes, he gave up once again — not quite defeated, but certainly frustrated. He was trapped like a rat in a cage.

That was when he heard a sound outside. He listened more closely and made out shuffling footsteps approaching, then the sound of the latch being lifted off the door.

Deke rose, ready to leap for the opening. Bayonets or not, he knew that getting past the guard was his only hope of getting out of the hot box. He would either break free or die trying.

The door opened wider, and Deke crouched, tense as a coiled spring. In the darkness, he could see only a silhouette framed by the open doorway.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” asked a familiar voice in English.

Relief flooding through him, Deke realized it was Faraday. It looked as if he wouldn’t have to throw himself against a bayonet after all.

“I’ll be damned,” Deke said. “You came for me.”

“Lucky for us there aren’t any guards posted on the hot box. You didn’t really expect us to leave you behind, did you?”

“Then let’s get the others and get the hell out of this place.”

“That’s the spirit.” Faraday wrinkled his nose. “I almost forgot how much it stinks in here.”

“Smells worse than a skunk’s asshole,” Deke agreed.

Deke exited the hot box. Although the night air was damp and humid, it was still considerably more comfortable than the confines of the hot box, and less stale.

“Where are the others?” Deke asked.

“Follow me.”

Faraday hurried along, hunched over and moving quietly. Deke did his best to keep up, although he felt stiff from the beatings and the cramped quarters that he’d been held in. From time to time, he cast a nervous eye in the direction of the guard tower. So far they hadn’t been seen or spotted.

Up ahead, Faraday slipped around the corner of the barracks and into the deeper shadows behind it.

The prisoner named Cooper was there, recognizable for his size, and Deke could see the white teeth of his feral smile in the gloom. “Here we go,” he said.

Helping him was Venezia, the other POW who helped Faraday run the show. Like magic, first one board and then another were removed, creating a gap in the back wall of the barracks. It was just what Deke had hoped to do in the hot box, but to no avail. Clearly the barracks hadn’t been built with the same scrutiny.

One by one, the POWs began to emerge through the gap. As they came out, the men gathered in the shadows. Although they remained utterly silent, there was a palpable air of both fear and excitement hovering around the group.

“What about your snitches?” Deke wondered. He knew that one warning cry would bring the Japanese guards running.

“Cooper had a quiet word with them. There are only a couple of weak links. He made it clear that it would be in their best interest to remember which side they were on. In other words, he promised to break their necks if they made a peep. He can be quite convincing when he wants to be.”

Having seen the size of the POW and his Cheshire-cat grin, Deke was sure that Cooper wouldn’t hesitate to make good on his threats. “I’ll bet.”

Soon the barracks were empty, and Faraday darted inside to make sure that no one was being left behind. “That’s everybody,” he said.

Some of the prisoners were so weak that they had to be supported by the other men, or even practically carried. Deke was surprised when Venezia, despite his short stature, hoisted a man onto his back and hauled him away in a fireman’s carry. Deke knew that these weakened men would slow them down, but the idea of leaving them behind was unthinkable.

“Does anybody have a watch?” he asked. “What time is it?”

Faraday searched the crowd. One man had managed to keep his watch hidden from their captors. “Simpson?” he asked.

“Half past midnight,” the man whispered back.

“Dammit, we’re late,” Deke said. “Let’s go. Faraday, you know this ground better than I do, so you’d better lead the way.”

Faraday nodded and headed out, but not before warning the group, “Try to stay in single file. Whatever you do, keep quiet, or the Japs will kill us all.”

It was less than a couple hundred feet from the barracks to the fence line, but it felt like miles. Deke winced each time a man stumbled in the dark. Someone coughed, and Deke heard the laughter and conversation abruptly end in the guard tower. Dammit all, he thought.

There was nothing to do but move forward blindly into the dark, following Faraday.

Seconds later, he heard one of the sweetest sounds to grace his ears in days. It was the sound of someone whispering his name in the darkness ahead.

“Deke?”

He surged past Faraday and almost crashed right into Lieutenant Steele.

“It’s about time,” Honcho said.

“I ran into some trouble.”

“Never mind, let’s get everybody the hell out of here before the Japanese get wise to us.”

This wasn’t the time for introductions, so Faraday and Steele simply nodded at one another before Faraday slipped through the gap in the fence.

It was a precarious operation, considering that the sudden quiet from the guard tower seemed to indicate that the Japanese were on alert. Deke realized he was holding his breath.

One by one the POWs slipped through the gap in the wire toward freedom. Of course, this desperate gamble for freedom only increased the immediate peril that the prisoners were in.

There was no doubt that the escape attempt was putting all the POWs in incredible danger. The rules of war would clearly have put the Japanese in the wrong if they had harmed cooperative prisoners — not that those rules seemed to concern them all that much. However, the escape attempt changed the equation entirely. It was perfectly acceptable to shoot prisoners who were trying to escape.

It was hard to know what fate would have awaited the POWs as their Japanese captors became more desperate. One thing was for sure as they went through the fence — to be caught now would be a death sentence for each and every man.

There were only a handful of men waiting to make it through the gap when the inevitable happened. One of the weakened prisoners lost his balance and fell, landing in the tangled thorns and barbed wire with an audible crash. The man couldn’t help but cry out in pain as the rusty barbs tore his flesh.

From the guard tower, a soldier shouted something unintelligible in Japanese.

“Hurry!” Deke whispered. He was still inside the fence line, waiting with Faraday for the last man to make it through. Frustrated, Deke grabbed the last man by the back of his trousers and practically hurled him through the fence.

That was when the machine gun finally opened up. The tracers from the Nambu lit up the night. The machine gunner did not have a clear line of fire because of the barracks, which blocked his view of the hole in the fence, but that didn’t stop him from stitching the forest all around with bursts from the machine gun.

They could have used a few more minutes for the POWs and liberators to make their getaway into the forest. But they had run out of time. The jig was up. All hell had broken loose.

From their position a hundred feet from the gap in the fence, concealed in the forest beyond the perimeter, Philly and Yoshio opened fire. They would be able to get off only a shot or two before they were targeted by the Nambu.

Either they had gotten lucky, or one or the other of the men had finally displayed some real skill as a sniper, because the machine gun momentarily fell silent. The lull in the fire gave the Americans and Filipinos precious seconds to hide themselves deeper in the forest. With the last POW finally through the gap, Deke and Faraday slipped through themselves and ran like hell after the others.

“Go, go!” Steele shouted, the time for quiet having passed. All that mattered now was getting some distance between themselves and the Japanese before the garrison could organize a pursuit.

The soldiers fled up the jungle trail. It was hard going in the dark, with each of the soldiers trying to follow the dim blur of the man in front of him. There were no lights because that would have truly given their position away. Branches and vines bordering the trail slapped at them, blinding them even more. Deke shoved at the undergrowth that seemed to be clawing at them and trying to hold them back.

The machine gun opened back up, filling the night with the dreaded woodpecker-like tap, tap, tap of the deadly rhythmic gun. Now that they were clear of the prison compound, the POWs were no longer blocked from sight by the barracks. Tracers and bullets tore at the forest cover, shredding the leaves and branches so that they rained debris on the fleeing soldiers. Fortunately for them, the machine gunner was still shooting over their heads or into the surrounding jungle.

Now came the time for Father Francisco and his guerrillas to play their role. It was part of the strategy that the priest and the lieutenant had agreed upon. As the rest of the column fled, the priest led his men into the forest on both sides of the trail.

When the Japanese came after them, the guerrillas would have a surprise waiting.

“Everybody keep moving,” Steele urged the weary POWs. “Move, move!”

His voice from the head of the column helped to provide a beacon for the POWs. Exhausted and weak though they were, they managed to trot down the trail, getting farther from the prison compound with every step.

However, the firing of the machine gun had alerted the rest of the Japanese garrison, who came spilling out of the guard barracks. Some were only half-dressed, but they all carried weapons. Some ran to fire up the generator so that the compound was soon bathed in electric light. A quick search revealed the hole in the fence and the route that the POWs and raiders had taken.

Through the midst of the pandemonium, Colonel Yamagata strode with his bow over one shoulder, making him an instantly recognizable figure.

As he came running from the prison barracks, Lieutenant Osako found the commandant and said excitedly, “Sir, the prisoners are all gone!”

Yamagata was shocked, but he did a good job of hiding his reaction from his men. To those watching, it almost seemed as if he had planned or somehow allowed this escape to take place. “They will not get far,” he said. “They have no food, no weapons, and they are very weak.”

“Yes, sir.”

However, the commandant was curious about one thing. “What about the American soldier who was being held in the hot box? Is he still there?”

“I am sorry to report that he has escaped,” Osako replied, fearing that he had forever stained himself in Yamagata’s eyes as the bearer of bad news.

Sergeant Matsueda came running up. He ignored Osako and turned his attention on Colonel Yamagata. “Sir, we found the hole in the fence that they escaped through. With your permission, I will pursue them.”

Yamagata nodded. The sergeant gathered a handful of trusted men and started down the trail after the fleeing enemy.

They did not get far. Father Francisco and his guerrillas were waiting for them. Several Japanese fell as the Filipinos opened fire.

Sergeant Matsueda did not leap to the ground like the others, but hurled a hand grenade in the direction that the muzzle flashes were coming from. He closed his eyes against the blinding flash, then smiled in satisfaction at the dying screams of more than one of the raiders. Before they could recover, he threw another grenade.

“On your feet, let’s go!” he screamed at the men who had dived to the ground. He paused long enough to pull several of them upright, then plunged down the trail. More rifles cracked, but this time the Japanese were ready, and fired back. The forest gloom was soon punctuated by the bright rifle flashes.

Matsueda was surprised to find Colonel Yamagata at his side. The officer had appeared out of nowhere, apparently eager to join the pursuit. The commandant appeared oblivious to the rifle fire being exchanged, ignoring the crackle and zing of bullets in the darkness.

Yamagata drew his bow and fired an arrow at the silhouette of one of the Filipino guerrillas. Pierced by Yamagata’s arrow, the guerrilla fell to his knees. A Japanese soldier ran up and finished the man, using his bayonet. Yamagata nodded with satisfaction.

Still, the Japanese were unable to push past the organized guerrilla defense that blocked the jungle trail. The two sides fought a hot and determined skirmish, the stabbing flames of muzzle flashes filling the night.

Yamagata’s bow released again, the twang of the bowstring lost in the sound of gunfire. Another one of the guerrilla’s muzzle flashes winked out and went dark.

Still, Yamagata saw that he was losing too many men. The Japanese had walked right into an ambush set by the guerrillas. Although they outnumbered the enemy, their piecemeal attack was being cut to bits. In the dark, it was impossible to see whom they faced.

Yamagata issued orders to end the attack. “We will fall back to the compound,” he said. “Most of the prisoners are too weak to get far. We will organize ourselves and pursue them at first light.”

“I cannot believe they have all escaped,” Matsueda said. “It must have something to do with that new prisoner. It was all part of some plan, and we fell for it.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Sergeant. We will catch them tomorrow and put an end to these POWs and raiders. Perhaps it is for the best. If we no longer have prisoners to guard, then we can join those fighting to stop the American advance. We can be soldiers for a change!”

As the Japanese headed back to the prison compound, they were not pursued by the guerrillas, who must have been confident that they had stopped the Japanese. An uneasy quiet returned to the tropical night.

It seemed that the POWs and their liberators had gotten away, at least for now.