Savage Sniper

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Deke rejoined the rest of the column making its way along the trail through the jungle. Having raced ahead in hopes of encountering the American advance sooner rather than later, Lieutenant Steele had left Deke and Father Francisco in charge. Deke hoped that Steele returned soon with good news. They needed firepower to end the Japanese pursuit.

With both Mr. Suey and Colonel Yamagata out of the picture, Deke and the others prayed that the enemy might abandon the pursuit. But from behind them, they still heard shouts and the occasional potshot. The enemy had not given up and was still coming after them.

Any resemblance to a military operation on the part of the enemy had gone out the window. Instead, it was clear that the Japanese were bent on revenge. Based on the shouts and apparent taunts being hurled at them, the enemy sounded like an angry mob.

To make matters worse, no ammo had miraculously appeared. They were all down to just a few rounds. Also, they were still low on food and water. Father Francisco reported that his guerrilla fighters were no better off in terms of supplies.

“If nothing else, my men have their bolo knives,” the priest said, then gave a knowing smile. “And God is on our side.”

“That’s good to know, Padre,” Deke replied. “I reckon we can use the help. Meanwhile, have your boys give whatever ammo they have left to Danilo.”

“Consider it done.”

The former prisoners were doing the best they could but still moved at what felt like a snail’s pace, barely staying ahead of the pursuers. They were all but drained of energy. Many of the men limped or leaned on makeshift crutches. Faraday was doing his best to urge them along, but there was only so much that he could do. With each passing minute, it became more worrisome that the former prisoners might fall back into the hands of the Japanese.

“They’re still coming after us,” Philly said. “Don’t they know when to stop? Yoshio, you ought to shout at them to give up and see what happens.”

“I could try, but ‘give up’ in Japanese is more of a curse word. It has very negative connotations.”

“That’s too bad for them. You know, I knew a girl who loved it when I gave her connotations,” Philly said.

“Save your yappin’ for the Japanese, why don’t you,” Deke said irritably.

Deke turned to look with concern down the trail behind them. He could only guess that leadership of the pursuit had fallen to Lieutenant Osako, who would be the ranking officer at this point. Deke had not counted on Osako to be quite so diligent in his duties or so determined. Perhaps he had underestimated the man.

“Everybody keep moving,” Deke said. “It’s the best we can do.”

He had gotten his rifle back from Faraday, although he had just three rounds remaining. That was better than nothing. It took just one bullet to make a difference.

Growing up, there had been times when he’d had just one bullet and had been expected to come back with something for the supper pot. For the Cole family and for most others during the Great Depression era in the mountains, buying a whole box of bullets at once would have been an extravagance. The general store several miles from their farm sold bullets and shotgun shells individually for a few pennies each. Sometimes even those pennies were hard to come by. Hard cash was a scarce commodity. Nobody wasted a shot back then, and Deke didn’t plan on doing that now. The way he saw it, three bullets meant three dead Japanese.

He and Danilo slipped toward the rear of the column and hung back there in the brush at the side of the trail. From their position, they awaited the appearance of the Japanese. They had chosen a bend in the path as their hiding place, giving them a long view down the trail. As soon as the enemy came into sight, they would have a clear shot at them. Deke doubted that they would have to wait long.

The priest had seen to it that Danilo had a few more rounds for his rifle, but how many? Deke used three fingers to tap his own rifle. Danilo nodded and held up four fingers. He knew well enough that Danilo would also make each shot count.

Around them, the forest seemed to be holding its breath. Trees of varying heights fenced them in, some soaring skyward and others groping up through the shaded canopy, desperate for a bit of sunlight. Slender vines curled among broad leaves. A few droplets of water fell, making a patter on the broad brim of his bush hat. He welcomed the cover that the jungle provided, but at the same time, there was always something sinister about it, as if old spirits dwelled among the shadows. Back home he had encountered mountain forests that felt the same way.

There were also threats that were all too real. He watched a spider the size of his hand groping its way along a branch. An insect nibbled at the exposed back of his neck, but Deke ignored it, all his attention focused on the space where he expected the first enemy soldiers to appear.

The enemy did not disappoint. A couple of soldiers hurried along the trail, hot on the heels of the Americans.

Deke nodded at Danilo. Both men stepped into the center of the path and fired, dropping two enemy soldiers. Then they melted back into the forest. There was a flurry of shots from the enemy that passed harmlessly overhead. Better yet, the Japanese had temporarily halted, evidently worried that they were walking into an ambush. If more enemy soldiers did want to show themselves and get shot, he and Danilo would be happy to oblige.

Deke thought it was a damn shame that they didn’t have more ammo. He and Danilo might have held off the enemy indefinitely, just two men against many. That was the power of a sniper.

However, a sniper needed bullets to be effective. Another Japanese soldier crept forward, and Deke dropped him. One bullet left. He would have to make it count. Danilo gave him a look of concern that needed no translation. Once they were out of ammo, then what?

Deke put the rifle to his shoulder and his eye to the telescopic sight, so that the kaleidoscope of the jungle patterns and colors sprang closer. Another Japanese soldier came into view, and it was almost too easy to put his crosshairs on the man’s throat and drop him. Beside him, Danilo also fired, worked the bolt, fired again.

They were officially out of ammo, and there were still too many Japanese hot on their trail. Deke wasn’t about to abandon his rifle, so he slung it across his back and drew his bowie knife. Beside him, Danilo did the same, the man’s long bolo knife making an evil hiss as it came free of the scabbard. Maybe they could get in among the trees and spring out at the enemy, taking them by surprise. With any luck, they might even be able to get ahold of a couple of Japanese rifles.

Fortunately it didn’t come to that. They heard a shout from up the trail, in the direction of their own men. For once it was not a warning shout but a whoop of what might have been joy. Then they heard several voices cheering. The enemy behind them was temporarily stalled thanks to the telling effect of their final shots, so he and Danilo hurried to catch up with the others.

They soon found the reason for the shouting and cheering. The tide was finally turning in their favor. Lieutenant Steele had returned, leading a contingent of US troops. One of them even carried a Browning Automatic Weapon, or BAR — just the thing to halt the advancing enemy in their tracks.

“We heard that you boys might need a little help,” one of the soldiers said. “You came to the right place.”

“There’s a mess of Japanese right on our heels,” Deke said. “They’re stirred up angry as hornets.”

“Not a problem,” another soldier said, hefting the BAR. “Let’s rack ’em and stack ’em, boys.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“You say these fellas on your trail were the camp guards?”

“Yeah.”

“Bastards,” the BAR gunner said, looking around at the rail-thin former prisoners dressed in their ragged uniforms. “We’ll take care of ’em, believe me.”

But as the troops moved into position, they were greeted with the deadly tap, tap, tap of the Nambu machine gun. Deke thought that the Japanese must have figured out from the cheering that they were no longer dealing with just the raiders and escaped prisoners. Consequently, they had set up their machine gun. Anyone coming down that jungle path in their direction would be mowed down.

A couple of medics were treating the worst cases among the ex-POWs. Lieutenant Steele was doling out rations but cautioning the men not to overeat. “Just take a few bites,” he warned them. “I don’t think your systems can handle much more than that.”

Hard as it was for the men not to gorge themselves, they did their best. Faraday moved among them, making sure that nobody ate too much.

“Holy cow, look at these guys,” one of the GIs said. “They look like scarecrows. The least that the Nips could have done is feed them. It’s not right.”

Deke didn’t disagree, but he was more interested in bullets than biscuits. “Give me some ammo,” he said.

The GI handed him a couple of clips. Then Deke ran in the direction of the firing, ready to join the fight.

However, he had a better idea than running headlong into deadly bursts from the Nambu. Instead, he slipped off the trail and moved through the forest parallel to it, hoping to surprise the machine gunner.

Unfortunately for Deke, some of the Japanese had the same idea. He came face-to-face with an enemy soldier who was doing just the same thing in the opposite direction. Startled, the enemy soldier made the fatal mistake of shouting something at Deke. Whether the enemy soldier was shouting a curse or a command to surrender, he’d never know, because Deke leveled his rifle and shot him. Then he pressed on through the trees.

From the sounds on the trail, he knew that he’d come even with the machine-gun position. He crept forward and fired at the figure crouching behind the gun, just visible through the trees. The firing abruptly stopped, giving the GIs on the trail the opening they needed. They advanced on the Japanese position, clearing the way with hand grenades and bursts from the BAR. Deke kept his head down while the BAR gunner sprayed the trail, the burst shredding leaves and twigs along with any enemy soldiers who had dared to show themselves.

Seconds later, the fight was over, and GIs swarmed the area around the machine gun. Deke stepped out of the woods and saw that one of the Japanese was still alive. To his surprise, he realized that it was Lieutenant Osako. He had not recognized him at first because the man’s eyeglasses had been knocked askew.

A GI leveled his weapon at the Japanese officer and was about to pull the trigger, but Deke pushed the muzzle aside. “Hold on,” he said. “We want this one alive.”

The lieutenant was wounded, down on his knees, looking up at the American soldiers. He clearly recognized Deke. “I remember you,” he said. “Deacon Cole.”

“I reckon the tables have turned, Osako. You’re our prisoner now.”

The Japanese officer shook his head. “No, I cannot surrender,” he said, sounding resigned. “Honor does not allow it.”

Instead of putting his hands up, Osako reached for the pistol in the holster on his belt. The GI to Deke’s left cursed and swung his weapon at Osako again, clearly intending to put an end to matters before the enemy officer could draw his pistol.

Deke was faster. In one smooth motion, he took a step forward, and at the same time, reversed his rifle and clubbed Osako on the side of the head. Knocked out, the Japanese slumped to the forest floor.

“Consider yourself captured,” Deke said.

The fight for Leyte was far from over, but it was becoming more apparent that the Japanese had lost the battle. At least, it was apparent to everyone but the Japanese. Starting with the initial landing near Palo and then the second landing to seize Ormoc, their forces had been pushed back from the coastal areas and forced to make a last stand in the hills and forests. As always, the Japanese simply refused to give up and surrender. Instead, they were going to make the Americans pay dearly with their lives.

It was more than a little frightening to think of the massive fight that would be necessary to capture Japan itself. If they fought so hard for every inch of islands such as Guadalcanal, Guam, and Leyte, what would it mean when the fight came to the Japanese home islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Shikoku, and Kyushu?

But for now that worry was down the road and far away. Patrol Easy reveled in the fact that they and Father Francisco’s guerrilla fighters had managed to liberate the POW camp.

Once they returned to American lines, there were photographers to document the arrival of the newly freed men. Even Major Flanders was there to welcome them and oversee the photo op. However, upon seeing the condition that the former prisoners were in, he had shooed away the photographers, keeping just one to document the poor physical condition of the liberated soldiers. He made it clear that the photographs would not be for publication.

“Folks back home don’t need to see that,” he said. “It certainly won’t help the war effort. But dammit, these photos might just be evidence once this war is over.”

More medics arrived to help treat the former prisoners, some so weak that they had to be carried away in stretchers. As for the others, it was announced that they would be sent to the fleet to recover their strength. There would be ample food for them and medical care. An air attack or even a submarine strike against the ships remained a threat, but it still seemed better than taking their chances on the open beach.

Deke managed to catch up with Faraday before he shipped out.

“I just want to thank you for all that you’ve done,” Faraday said. “It’s not just any guy who would surrender himself to the Japanese in order to help us break out.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Deke said.

Faraday gave him a wry grin. “At least you got a taste of what it was like to be in that place.”

“I could have done without that.”

“I just wish we could have captured Colonel Yamagata and Mr. Suey to give them a taste of their own medicine. I would have loved to see them in a POW compound.”

“Don’t worry, they got what they had coming to them.”

“I suppose so,” Faraday said; then he joined the line waiting to board a launch that would carry the former POWs far from Leyte.

Deke was sorry to see Faraday go, but he was glad that Faraday and the others would be given a chance to recuperate far from the combat still taking place on Leyte.

A few Japanese prisoners — precious few — had also been taken. Lieutenant Osako was now among those men. They were kept in a big stockade that had been erected for that purpose, but there was shelter from the sun and rain. Even more than that, the prisoners were fed and not forced to perform slave labor. It was all a marked contrast to the cruel conditions that the Americans had faced while being held prisoner. Yoshio had been roped into interviewing several of the higher-ranking officers who had been captured.

From a distance, Deke had caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Osako staring in wonder at the hordes of men and supplies that now occupied the beachhead, with more arriving all the time. He and the other Japanese could have no doubt now that an American victory was a foregone conclusion. For a change the symbolic Japanese sun on their battle flag might have been setting — at least on Leyte.

Patrol Easy got a full day of sleeping and eating, but there was to be no real rest for the weary. By the next afternoon, they found themselves headed back into the forest. As it turned out, there were still plenty of Japanese to fight. There were even rumors that they might be sent to Manila next, where instead of the forest, they would be fighting across city streets.

“Aw, I was just gettin’ comfortable, Honcho,” Philly complained.

“Sounds like the army has another job for us,” Deke said. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Don’t know yet,” the lieutenant admitted. “But I will tell you one thing, which is that you’d better bring your rifle. You’re going to need it.”