David Healey
Hunter Sniper
A World War II Thriller
“The world is not pretty. It's only the hard work of some people that makes it so.”
CHAPTER ONE
The tropical night sky was clear, lit by a waxing moon. A bat swooped across the face of the glowing orb, then another, hunters in the dark.
There was just enough light to give shape and form to individual trees and clumps of spiky kunai grass, but in a way, only half seeing something was worse. The longer you stared at a dark clump of shrub, the more it started to look like a sneaking Japanese soldier.
Listening to the night noises, Deacon Cole gripped his rifle and stared into the darkness. He didn’t grip the rifle out of fear, but out of eagerness. The rifle felt like a living thing in his hands, and some part of him ached to shoot something. He wanted to feel the familiar jolt against his shoulder, the acrid whiff of gunpowder that was the best smell in the world this side of bacon frying. He wanted to feel the sheer power of that rifle and hear the whunk of a bullet hitting home.
Given that the jungle was crawling with the enemy, he reckoned that he’d have his chance soon enough.
He took his hand off the rifle just long enough to touch the bowie knife at his belt, reassuring himself that it was there and sharp as ever.
If the Japanese showed up, he’d be ready for them.
As if the shapes in the darkness weren’t enough of a test of the imagination, it didn’t help anyone’s nerves that the jungle was never silent. Deke reckoned that if the night birds and insects went quiet, you might even hear the plants growing.
A few creatures and night birds stirred in the moonlight, their rustling through the underbrush and the sharp cries of hunters and prey setting the soldiers’ nerves on edge.
Screech! Shreek! Aiieee!
These were primal sounds, echoing the jungle’s cycle of savagery and death, a reminder of what awaited them all in this war.
The question was, What were the soldiers tonight? Hunters or prey?
Deke and the other soldiers were supposed to be the hunters, battle-hardened tough guys, but it was easy enough to sympathize with the prey when they heard the strangled, desperate cries of a dying creature. In this war, Deke reckoned that everybody felt like prey at one time or another.
“I can’t tell if it’s the Japanese sneaking up on us or just some damn bird making a racket,” whispered Philly, off to Deke’s right. The former city boy’s voice was laced with exhaustion and nerves, sounding cracked, hoarse, and dry.
“I hope it is the damn Japanese,” Deke replied, feeling wide awake and alert, his gray-blue eyes glinting in the moonlight as he scanned the darkness. There was no fear in his gaze, but something feral and predatory that searched the jungle with the anticipation of a hunter hoping for his next kill. “I just wish they’d hurry up and get it over with if they’re gonna attack.”
“For Pete’s sake, Deke,” Philly grumbled, a note of disgust in his voice. “Don’t you ever get tired of this damn war?”
“Don’t you worry about me,” he said. “Just keep an eye out for the Japs.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t it be a shame if there weren’t any out there? We might get some sleep for a change.”
Deke didn’t answer, only half listening to Philly. He stared intently through the scope, hoping for any glimpse of movement.
The strange noises made the soldiers uneasy, but it was just possible that their fears were unfounded. Philly had hinted at that possibility. After all, they were now near a section of Leyte Island in the Philippines that was supposed to be more or less secure.
For the last several days, they had forged their way across the interior of Leyte, fighting Japanese patrols whenever they encountered them. Their company had followed a narrow path through the hills and dense jungle. Their purpose had been to reconnoiter the jungle regions as much as it had been to harass the enemy.
Now they were approaching the coastal area of the island’s western shore, near the city of Ormoc, where they hoped to be reunited with the rest of the division. Their mission now was to guard a small airfield and fuel depot that they had stumbled across.
The Japanese had a much larger presence at Ormoc than on the coast itself. They held the port city there and possessed a well-developed airfield, from which they continued to launch raids on the American fleet. However, the Japanese also had small airfields dotting the island, such as the one that Deke’s company now guarded.
The Japanese had a smart strategy, because the scattered airfields were hard to find and target from the air. As it turned out, a Japanese Zero didn’t need much of an airstrip to take off and land. Although the Zero was no longer a match for newer, more advanced American fighters, the aircraft was well suited to this jungle environment.
The nimble Zero had been the top dog in the early days of the war, back when the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. Those were the planes that had sunk the ships at anchor and killed thousands of sailors, Deke’s own cousin Jasper among them.
Incredibly, the Zero was built from canvas and wood, more a product of craftsmanship than mass production, in that a single team often worked to complete one entire aircraft at a time. This approach and the materials used now seemed an antiquated concept, but in the early days of the war the lightness of the Zero gave it the advantage of speed and maneuverability.
Since then, American aircraft had outpaced Japan’s in terms of firepower and speed, but the Japanese planes remained a threat, especially now that the Japanese had resorted to turning their planes into airborne bombs and flying them directly into ships, something that they called kamikaze — a Japanese term that roughly translated to “divine wind.”
The presence of these small airfields helped explain how Japanese planes still managed to take to the sky and harass the American fleet just offshore. No matter how many enemy aircraft the Hellcats managed to shoot down, there always seemed to be more.
Just a few days ago the airfield and fuel had belonged to the Japanese. Not anymore.
The question was, Would the Japanese try to take it back tonight?
Deke and the other soldiers waited to find out.
Each errant noise from the dark jungle surrounding them might very well be indicating a new threat from the Japanese, the sounds of the animals and insects masking the noise of the approaching enemy.
The moonlight was just bright enough to give Deke’s dirty, stained uniform a dappled appearance, mixing light and shadow, like a jaguar’s coat. The condition of his uniform testified to the fact that he had experienced more than a few fights. Even in the dim light, some of the stains looked suspiciously like dried blood — or worse.
“Just keep your eyes open,” Deke eventually whispered in response to Philly. “For all we know, there might be a whole company of Japanese out there, waiting for us to let our guard down.”
“Yeah, yeah, and it might just be a couple of pigs rooting around.”
Farther down the line, a rifle cracked. The stab of the muzzle flash pierced the night. If there were any Japanese in the forest, they now knew exactly where the US line was located.
“What the hell are you shooting at?” a sergeant demanded.
“I thought I saw something, Sarge,” a soldier stammered in response. Deke didn’t recognize the soldier’s voice.
“You didn’t see nothin’. I’ve been starin’ at this jungle the same as you,” the sergeant said. “There’s nothing to shoot at. Knock it off, Kowalski. If there are any Japanese out there, you just drew them a map of our position.”