He flicked away his cigarette stub and began to make his way back to the bullpen.
At the top of the stairs, he was surprised to see the unwelcome figure of Major Lundholm standing in the doorway. With a sinking feeling, he realized that Lundholm had been waiting for him. Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good.
“Oatmire, where the hell have you been?” the major wondered, scowling. “Probably flirting with those damn sheilas. I hope you don’t have any hot dates, because it’s time to pack your gear.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“This is the army, son. What’s there to understand? Anyhow, it looks like you got your wish.”
“My wish, sir?” Oatmire instantly felt his belly knot with worry.
“You’re going to be part of the landing on Leyte, after all, you lucky son of a bitch.”
CHAPTER SIX
The two Japanese soldiers watched intently as workers toiled to complete the defenses on the beach and beyond.
“These lazy fools must work harder!” declared Major Hisako Noguchi, watching the defensive preparations that were continuing to take place on Guinhangdan Hill, what the Americans called Hill 522, one of the anchors of the Japanese defenses on Leyte. He used his walking stick to point at one of the soldiers deepening a trench. “You there, put your back into it!”
“Perhaps you should hit them with that stick instead of just pointing it at them, sir,” said Akio Ikeda, who stood beside the major, watching the work take place. The major was something of a paper tiger. If the soldier that the major had just scolded began to dig faster, it was most likely because Sergeant Ikeda stood nearby.
But Ikeda was not satisfied. He shouted at the soldier, “Dig, damn you! You will wish that trench was even deeper once the Americans land on that beach, but it will be too late by then.”
The chastened soldier redoubled his efforts. Dirt flew as the shovel bit into the rocky soil. Noguchi gave a harumph of annoyance and turned away.
Everywhere that it was feasible, the island was being converted to a fortress. Extra attention had been given to several hills, including Hill 522, in hopes that the high ground would provide the Japanese artillery an advantage over the invading Americans.
The Japanese strategy would not be to meet the Americans on the beaches. While the landing would not be entirely unopposed, the Japanese had always seen the advantage of inland defenses.
To that end, bunkers had been built under the hills, like a massive honeycomb, over the weeks leading up to the invasion. They had been dug deep into the hillsides and reinforced when the reports indicated that the Americans were coming. And now, with the Americans approaching the island, those bunkers were being filled with men, ammunition, and grenades.
With the major’s permission, Ikeda had given special attention to the creation of rifle pits. Ikeda was a gunsō, or sergeant. He carried a rifle with a telescopic sight. He commanded the sogekihei squad — men with special ability as sharpshooters. These men would be on the front lines once the American attack came, as it surely would.
In many ways, Ikeda had become the major’s right-hand man. The two were as different as tea and sake. Noguchi was more of an engineer than a soldier. In fact, he had built houses and roads in civilian life before the war. His uniform always managed to appear rumpled and dusty, attesting to the fact that he was an engineer first and a soldier second, happiest when he was elbow deep in a hole somewhere.
Short and near to plump, he spent his days shoring up the defenses wherever he could. He was a familiar figure, huffing and puffing as he made his way through the network of defensive trenches on his short legs. He waved his walking stick when he became agitated, but the troops and soldiers knew that his bark was worse than his bite.
Ikeda was the one to be feared. Ikeda was definitely the sake part of the equation. When he moved through the trenches or the nearby jungle, he moved with a supple and lithe energy that more closely resembled one of Japan’s fabled Tsushima leopard cats.
Also, he was never without his Arisaka rifle with its telescopic sight. There were rumors that he sometimes drank too much and sat up here on the hill, shooting Filipino laborers in the distance. Looking into his dark eyes, the rumors were easy to believe. The major might complain and cajole, but it was Ikeda who would make sure that his orders were carried out.
The two men walked on, Ikeda trailing a respectful distance at Noguchi’s elbow. Noguchi was an officer, after all, and several years older. Ikeda never lost sight of the fact that the major had transformed this hilltop into a formidable fortress — Ikeda’s sense of strategy was limited to what he could put his rifle sights on and shoot. There would be time for shooting soon enough. Until then they could all be thankful for Noguchi’s talents, Ikeda included.
“Sir, when do you think that the Americans will arrive?”
Noguchi chuckled. “You may as well ask when the next typhoon will hit.”
Thinking about the vast force that was surely arrayed against them, Ikeda decided that a typhoon was an apt analogy. Both were unstoppable forces. “We know that a typhoon will arrive sooner or later, just as we know the enemy will.”
Noguchi lowered his voice, even though there was no one in the vicinity to overhear him. “I have seen the reports from the spotter planes. They have detected that the American invasion fleet is only a short distance away. One or two days, at most.”
“If the spotter planes have found them, then our fleet must destroy them!” Ikeda said hotly. “Our planes must send them to the bottom of the sea!”
Noguchi sighed. “If only it were that easy. The enemy is well prepared, Sergeant. They have vast numbers of planes, and we do not — at least, not anymore. The ships carrying their troops are well screened by their destroyers, battleships, and cruisers. We can hope that the navy will crush them or that our planes will bomb them, but in the end, it will be up to us to stop them from recapturing the Philippines.”
Ikeda touched his rifle. “Hai!”
“There have also been rumors of attacks on outlying island outposts,” Noguchi added. “There is no doubt that the Americans are closing in. Mark my words, Sergeant. They will bring the battle to us soon.”
“I do not fear the Americans. Let them come.”
They both looked out at the sparkling sea. For the moment, at least, the vast blue water remained empty. Even the Japanese vessels that had been in the area seemed to have been withdrawn. It was hard for Ikeda to register how he would feel if that sea suddenly filled with American ships.
Those ships would target and shell whatever Japanese fortifications they could find, including this hill. That was exactly why Noguchi had dug the defenses so deep. Most of the hilltop had been stripped of trees, although there were still vestiges of jungle in the lower reaches. The hill somewhat resembled a bald man with a fringe of hair.
Just a short time ago, the defenses had lost some of their teeth when American raiders, helped by Filipino guerrillas, had come ashore and managed to destroy the hill’s battery of massive guns. These had been intended as a deterrent to the invasion, with the ability to sink enemy ships beyond the horizon. There had also been “beehive” shells, almost like a giant shotgun blast, with the ability to sweep enemy aircraft from the skies.
However, the small group of raiders had managed to destroy the battery. It went without saying that Ikeda felt bitter that the American raiders had escaped — although a handful of guerrillas had been captured and killed. Ikeda was intrigued by the fact that at least one of the men had been a sniper, judging by the rifle with its telescopic sight that the US soldier had carried. The man hadn’t worn a helmet like the others but had donned a bush hat with one side pinned up, giving him a distinctive look. Ikeda would have liked to have shown him just who the better shot was, but there had been no opportunity to settle that score. Maybe Ikeda would have a chance to do just that once the Americans invaded.