Deke managed to grin. “And here all I thought I had to worry about was dodgin’ bullets.”
“All I can give you is an aspirin,” the medic said. He nodded at the mug in Deke’s hands. “What did that Filipino fella give you?”
“Some kind of tea, I reckon.”
The medic wrinkled his nose. “Well, it smells like it will kill off that fever, so drink it down. These people know how to treat these things. They’ve been doing it for centuries, right? Then take two aspirin as a concession to modern medicine. Whatever you do, don’t make me carry you.”
“Do not worry, I will carry him if I have to,” said Yoshio, who was listening nearby.
“Nobody needs to carry me, dammit,” Deke said. He gulped down the dregs of the bitter tea, swallowed two aspirin, and lurched to his feet. The surrounding greenery spun alarmingly, then settled into a dizzy spell that left Deke struggling to keep his balance. He felt queasy as hell.
If the Japanese decided to launch an attack, Deke realized that he would be an easy mark. He didn’t seem to have the strength to lift his rifle.
“Here, give me that,” Philly said, slipping Deke’s rifle over his own shoulder. Yoshio picked up Deke’s haversack. Danilo nodded approvingly, then moved forward to lead the column up the jungle trail toward Ormoc and the sea.
Captain Merrick came by, checking on his men. Some were walking wounded, their wounds stiff with the morning dampness. One thing for sure, the jungle and the Japanese had beat this company to hell.
Merrick stopped in front of Deke, frowning at him. “Dammit, Deke. You picked one hell of a time to get sick. You can’t seriously expect the rest of us to fight the Japanese all by ourselves?”
Deke grinned. “You can just prop me up to stop the bullets, sir. Glad to make myself useful.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Merrick said. “With any luck, we’ll link up with the rest of the division today outside Ormoc. They might even be able to offer you and the rest of these poor bastards more than a couple of aspirin.”
“Sounds good to me, sir.”
Merrick turned his attention to Yoshio.
“What I said the other day, when we were interrogating the prisoner, I was wrong. I got a little hot, is all. Glad to have you on our side, son.”
“That is why I am fighting, sir. To show everyone that I am an American. That my family is as American as them.”
Merrick offered his hand and Yoshio shook it, then moved on.
Watching Captain Merrick go, Deke said, “It’s about time that Merrick got his head out of his ass. You don’t have anything to prove to me, Yoshio. You’re a damn good spotter. I would have been dead ten times already without you watching my back.”
Philly had been listening to the exchange and snorted. “That’s high praise coming from the likes of Deacon Cole. What about me?”
Deke grinned. “Jury’s still out on you, city slicker.”
The captain stopped to give other men a kind word. Lord knew they needed it. It was part of an officer’s role to instill confidence, and Merrick was doing a good job of it. An officer had so many concerns and so much to worry about that praise was usually at the bottom of his list.
However, the captain’s confidence may have been premature. They didn’t know it yet, but they were going to have one more fight on their hands today.
CHAPTER SIX
The heat of the day was growing as the morning was force-marched toward afternoon. Around them, the jungle felt sullen as a wife whose husband had forgotten their anniversary. Sure, things were quiet now, but sooner or later, there would be hell to pay.
Sweat dripped into the men’s eyes under their helmets, which felt more and more like heavy steel buckets with each passing mile. Most of them had given up on waving away the insects that buzzed into their faces. It wasn’t worth the energy. Instantly, more bugs would appear.
“Everyone stay sharp,” Captain Merrick cautioned the soldiers in a low voice, moving along the column threading its way through the forest. “If there are going to be organized Japanese forces anywhere, we’ll find them as we get closer to Ormoc. They’ll be dug in around there and looking for a fight.”
“Is that a bad thing, sir?” asked Lieutenant Gurley. Even after several days of hit-and-run fighting in the jungle, the young lieutenant hadn’t lost his gung-ho attitude. “Aren’t we here to kick those Japanese in the teeth?”
“To be honest, Lieutenant, I’d rather dodge the Japanese and link up with the rest of the division,” Merrick said. “There’s safety in numbers. Once we get near the beach, we’ll be dealing with much larger enemy units. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little worse for wear. These are damn good men, but they’ve sure taken a beating.”
Lieutenant Gurley nodded, although he looked disappointed. The captain had spoken quietly, intending his words for Gurley’s ears only. However, some of the men had overheard the exchange and tended to agree with Merrick. They had done their part. Now it was time for somebody else to step in and pick up the slack — or to fight alongside them at the very least.
“I never thought I’d be looking forward to seeing a beach again,” Private Frazier said. “Then again, I wouldn’t mind having one more crack at the Japanese.”
One look at Frazier confirmed that his words weren’t intended as boasting or bravado. He was soaked through with sweat, and he must have been just as dog-tired as anyone. The big man was carrying his BAR slung over his shoulder so that the weapon hung at his waist, ready in an instant to deal with any enemy threats. He was like a one-man destruction squad, a veritable two-legged tank.
Not all the men had Frazier’s fighting spirit. As the company plodded along, Captain Merrick had seemed to sense the lethargy overtaking his men and was doing his best to prod them to maintain their situational awareness. He knew that one of the best ways to come out ahead in a fight was not to stumble into one.
The problem was that his men were just going through the motions, more like sleepwalkers than soldiers. It was understandable if his men were beat, considering that they had been operating on little sleep and lousy food. Not to mention that they had already fought two significant actions against the enemy during this jungle trek. They had lost several good men during this mission.
There was no doubt that the captain was just as exhausted as his men, but a good officer did not have the luxury of slacking off. It was his job to see the mission succeed and keep as many of his men as possible alive during its completion.
They were under constant threat of attack from the Japanese — and whatever else the jungle managed to throw at them. He knew well enough that any lapse in vigilance would leave them vulnerable.
The Japanese were not the only danger.
There was the jungle itself, which was challenging enough without the enemy lurking in it. There were roots on the trail to twist a man’s ankle, snakes, multicolored spiders so big that they caught birds in their webs and ate them, stinging centipedes, plus sharp-edged kunai grass and spiky cantala shrubs that cut bare skin like a knife.
The sweltering heat draped over them all like a soggy net. Sudden downpours left them shivering.
Given all the above, a swift death from a Japanese bullet almost seemed like a mercy.
There was also illness lurking here. The captain looked in Deke’s direction and frowned, as if aware that his most dependable set of ears and eyes was now among the walking wounded, down and out with some sort of jungle fever.
“Hang in there, boys,” Merrick said. “Keep your eyes open while you’re at it.”
Deke felt like his head was wrapped in gauze — or possibly spiderwebs. Maybe he had walked smack-dab into one of those big webs hanging across the trail and he hadn’t even noticed. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, which was the best that he could do.