Savage Sniper

CHAPTER FOUR

It wasn’t all glory being a soldier. On this steamy morning, as the 306th Infantry Regiment slogged across the flooded rice paddies surrounding the newly captured port city of Ormoc, it was even less glorious than usual.

Thanks to Patrol Easy, the unit had its route toward Highway 2, a major supply road for the Japanese. The mission was to bisect the road, essentially creating a roadblock to cut off the enemy supply lines. Other units would attack the Japanese position separately. Once a section of the road was in American hands, the plan was to start rolling up it toward Palompon. To be sure, the Japanese wouldn’t like this plan and would fight them the whole way.

After the roadway moved north from the rice paddies, the territory became more rugged. The highway was lined with low hills and jungle-filled ravines. There were dozens of bridges to cross. The situation favored the Japanese defenders, who could ambush the Americans at every bend in the road if they chose to do so. It promised to be an ugly business.

But for the fun and games to begin, they first had to get to Highway 2 by striking across country. Hopefully, more or less, they would catch the Japanese by surprise and seize the road without too much of a fight.

“Mud, mud, and more mud,” Philly muttered, slogging through the flooded field. “Let me just point out that this is our third time crossing these damn rice paddies. I’ve got to say, I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Nobody gives a damn if you’re sick and tired of it,” Deke pointed out. He was reminded of being a boy on the farm and putting up endless rows of hay on a hot July day. “You ain’t got no choice but to do it.”

“You’d think I’d get better at it by now,” Philly said, “considering all the practice I’ve had with it.”

If it was possible, the flooded fields felt even hotter than they had the previous day. The intent had been to start out at dawn, but any large military operation never got off to a smooth start. Consequently, the tropical sun was already well on its way to its zenith, and the heat beat down upon them. Once again, the humidity was amplified by the surrounding water.

This was a major operation, but due to the impossible terrain, there would be no mechanized support. This meant that everything the regiment needed for what was planned to be a three-day operation to seize and establish a presence on Highway 2 would have to be carried across the empty miles of the rice paddies.

Under the circumstances, it would have been hard enough for each soldier to carry his rifle, ammunition, pack, canteen, and rations — all topped off by a steel helmet that was doing its best to boil his brain under the tropical sun.

For the operation, soldiers were loaded down with all sorts of additional equipment. They carried machine guns and mortars, plus ammo for both — and lots of it. The last thing you ever wanted was to run out of ammunition.

That was just for starters. There were also boxes of hand grenades, extra radio batteries, even cases of blood plasma. Finally, there were litters for the wounded that would surely result from the operation.

A Catholic priest was quietly helping with the burden of medical supplies, a litter carried sideways across his shoulders. One couldn’t help but think of Christ at Calvary, silently bearing his cross.

The burden was amplified by the soft ground, the mud sucking at boots, even the damp air itself. The rice paddies were fertile with organic matter, meaning that with each step, men sank to their ankles. In some places, they sank to their knees in mud and water. A few unlucky men stepped into holes and were nearly swallowed up, so that they had to be pulled out by their comrades.

To make matters worse, they had to be ready to fight — or flee. At any moment, a contingent of Japanese might appear on the horizon. At least they would see them coming. A far more worrisome threat was that one of the stray Japanese warplanes would appear out of nowhere and strafe them. There were still enemy fighters in the air.

For now their luck held.

However, the heat and the exertion took their toll. Every few minutes, a soldier would succumb and collapse into the muddy water. They had passed out and had to be saved from drowning due to being loaded down with all that gear. A few had given their all and literally dropped dead from the heat. Those who could be saved were given water and put onto the stretchers, adding yet more to the soldiers’ burdens.

Walking at the head of the column, Patrol Easy was mostly spared from carrying any of the extra load. Their role on point was to guide the men behind them and keep an eye out for any sign of the Japanese. Still, they did not have an easy task, considering that they were expected to be the advance eyes and ears. In the distance, heat shimmered off the flooded fields, making it difficult to see who — or what — was out there.

“There could be a whole division of Japanese out there and we can hardly seem them,” Philly said.

Deke wasn’t as concerned. He was thinking about those huts he had seen on his earlier reconnaissance. “All the Japs need to do is set up some machine guns in those villages. There’s no cover at all out here. Let’s just hope they don’t know we’re coming.”

Walking nearby, Lieutenant Steele had overheard. Deke could guess from the frown of concern etched on the lieutenant’s face that he might have been thinking the same thing about the machine guns. “Just keep your eyes open,” he said.

With their added burdens, it took the regiment most of the day to cover the same amount of territory that Patrol Easy had crossed in much less time. Even so, by late afternoon, they reached the dirt road that Deke had found, making the going that much easier.

Seeing the men moving along the road behind him, Deke felt a sense of pride. Deke wasn’t one to inflate his own value. There was nothing like growing up poor on a mountain farm to make you realize how insubstantial you were. Nonetheless, he felt rewarded for the risks he had taken now that the advance was able to follow the route that he had scouted. Now, if he could just help keep them all from being ambushed. There was no telling what tricks the Japanese might have in store for them.

As nightfall approached, they came to the second, larger collection of huts. Deke and Danilo crept forward, investigating to make certain that there were no Japanese in residence. Satisfied, he signaled for the rest of the advance to move up. Orders were given to dig in on the dry ground nearby.

“Whatever you do, no lights, not even a cigarette,” an officer said, making sure that each man heard the order. “So far the Japanese don’t seem to know we’re here. Let’s keep it that way, unless you want a bunch of mortars or maybe artillery coming down on your head.”

Nobody could argue with that, so they settled down to eat their rations cold. Some men were so desperate for tobacco that they simply sucked on an unlit cigarette. Not for the first time, Deke was glad that he hadn’t gotten in the habit of smoking. Some men couldn’t go more than an hour without their nicotine fix. Deke didn’t like the idea of being beholden to anything in that way. Also, he was convinced that too many cigarettes made you get winded too easily.

Despite all their precautions, it had probably been too much to expect that they would get through the night without any encounters with the Japanese. But when trouble did arrive, it came in a surprising way.

Toward midnight, a truck came rumbling up the road. The night was just bright enough with moonlight reflected off the surrounding flooded fields that they could see the dim outline of the vehicle and a few details. It clearly wasn’t American. The markings were Japanese, and the truck lacked the familiar silhouette of the GMC trucks, although it had a canvas cover across the back. Finally, the engine sounded different, pitched higher than the US truck motors.

“Who the hell is that?” Lieutenant Steele wondered.

“Not one of our guys, that’s for damn sure. But what the hell is he up to?”

The truck lumbered into the village, came to a stop, then reversed as if looking for a good spot to turn around. It didn’t seem like an attack, and the truck wasn’t in any particular hurry. Instead, the truck driver seemed to be expecting to find other Japanese in the village. You could almost hear the driver thinking, Where the hell is everybody?

Ominously, they could hear a few shouts from within the canvas covering. The truck must be carrying Japanese troops.

Nobody was interested in taking prisoners.

Several rifles were already trained on the truck. A machine gun was also brought up.

Lieutenant Steele raised his shotgun. “Pour it into ’em, boys!”

As the first shots rang out, the driver must have realized his mistake. The truck hurtled forward, returning the way it had come, but it didn’t get far. The windshield shattered in a shower of glass. The machine gun stitched holes down the canvas. A single enemy soldier managed to tumble out the back, but he was immediately riddled with bullets. Driverless, the truck came to a stop only when it crashed into a hut and lost its forward momentum. Smoke and steam leaked from the engine, but the motor was still running. Finally, a sergeant approached, reached through the shattered window, and shut down the engine.

Despite the sobering sight of the wrecked truck, a few soldiers cheered. It had been deeply satisfying to pour out their frustrations on the truck.

“Everybody shut the hell up!” Steele shouted. The cheering died away.

Deke and Philly had been among those firing at the truck.

“If the Japanese didn’t know we were here, they sure as hell do now,” Philly said.

“You got that right,” Deke agreed.

Steele headed off in the direction of the sentries posted on the road.

“I wouldn’t want to be those fellas,” Philly said. “I believe Honcho is about to tear them a new asshole.”

“What the hell were they thinking?” Deke wondered.

The truck should have been stopped by sentries who had been posted on the road, but the explanation that they stammered out to an angry Lieutenant Steele was that the driver had waved at them, and they had momentarily thought that the truck might actually have been commandeered by American forces, similar to trucks that had been captured earlier near Camp Downes. In the confusion of nighttime, the Japanese driver must have mistaken the sentries for troops from his own side. It was just another one of those wartime incidents that defied explanation.

The rest of the night passed uneasily. Nobody slept well, expecting an attack in force from the Japanese. Deke and the others moved far up the road, closer to Highway 2, which was surely the direction that an attack would come from.

However, nothing materialized. As the sky brightened on the horizon to reveal another tropical dawn, the GIs were relieved to see that the road ahead and the surrounding rice paddies were empty. Either the truck hadn’t been missed all that much, or the noise of the attack on the truck had been swallowed up in the night.

The sun was barely up when they reached the supply highway. Although this section of the highway was well traveled, it was not defended. This meant that the soldiers quickly moved across it and set up a defensive position. They had created a roadblock, cutting the enemy’s ability to move supplies and men to and from the last open port that the Japanese held.

Up and down the highway, other units from the division were also moving into position. Judging by the sound of distant gunfire, those other units were not having such an easy time of it.

Although their arrival had not been contested, the plan was not to stay put. A company was left behind to dig in and stop any approaching vehicles. The remainder of the unit was to move north up the highway, securing the road and sweeping any Japanese defenses out of their path. The last phase of wresting control of Leyte from the Japanese had begun.

“Let’s move out!” shouted an officer.

The 306th headed up the road, with Deke and the rest of Patrol Easy once again at the front of the column. Step by step, they moved deeper into enemy territory.

“What I’d like to know is, where the hell are all of the Japanese?” Philly wondered out loud.

Deke nodded at the road ahead. “I reckon we’ll find out soon enough.”

The column continued its advance northward on Highway 2. The open fields fell away and were replaced by a wall of vegetation that marched right to the edge of the mostly dirt highway. The ground began to rise as well, the road winding through small hills that would eventually become the distant mountains, where it was rumored that entire Japanese divisions lay hidden, waiting for the right moment to attack. Looking at the dark hills, it seemed to Deke that anything was possible.

This was territory that favored defense.

It didn’t take long to prove that point, as if anyone had doubts. They rounded a bend in the road and were greeted with a flurry of gunfire.

Deke hit the ground, Danilo beside him, as bullets stitched the dirt road.

“Son of a bitch!” Philly swore, but managed to pop off a few shots from directly behind them. Much farther behind the men on the point, the larger column came to a halt.

Deke didn’t see a target but realized that it didn’t matter. What they needed now was suppressing fire. He put shot after shot into the greenery. The shooting subsided, which meant that he had either gotten the bastards, or that they had slunk away, probably to prepare for another ambush.

Cautiously, he raised himself to one knee, then finally stood and dusted himself off. He was so covered in dried, caked mud from his journeys through the rice paddies that a little more dirt hardly mattered.

“Everybody all right?” Lieutenant Steele asked. By some miracle, they’d all come through the Japanese ambush unscathed. “Keep an eye out. We can expect more of the same up ahead.”

“Then I reckon it’s gonna be a long walk to Palompon,” Deke said.