Deke thought back to the double take that Captain Merrick had done upon seeing Yoshio. The sight of a Japanese face in a US uniform tended to do that. “Yoshio, don’t you ever get tired of people wondering which side you’re on?”
“Not really,” he said. “You see, I have never wondered myself, which makes it an easy question to answer.”
“Amen to that,” Deke said. “Now let’s see if we can find some extra ammo. Something tells me that there’s gonna be plenty to shoot at in this jungle.”
Deke wanted to travel light. If they had to hump it through the hilly jungle terrain, then he wanted to carry the essentials. That meant his rifle, spare ammo, cleaning kit, bowie knife, canteen, rations, first-aid kit, flashlight, poncho, and blanket. Along with a few extras like a spoon and matches, everything he needed fit into a small haversack. He made certain that nothing rattled or clanked. An unwanted noise at the wrong time could bring attention from the enemy.
He shook his head, watching some of the greener troops prepare for the jungle trek. Some brought too much. Deke figured this was less of a concern because when their packs got too heavy, they would figure out what to discard along the way. Those who didn’t bring enough would find themselves shivering in the frequent rain — even the jungle could get cool on a wet night.
To Deke’s surprise, he spotted the soldier with the eyeglasses whom he had rescued from the sinking landing craft. The soldier recognized him as well and gave Deke a nod. Deke was glad to see that his efforts had paid off in that the young green bean had made it this far. Whether he’d come out alive on the other side of the peninsula remained to be seen. Ruefully, Deke realized that went for himself too. This wasn’t going to be an easy mission.
The only man who managed to carry less than Deke was the Filipino guide who had been assigned to them. The man carried a rifle and a big-ass bolo knife slung across his back. That seemed to be the extent of his gear. Other than a small bag of rice that was stuffed into a game-bag-like cloth sack that hung from one of the man’s shoulders, he didn’t even carry any rations that Deke could see. Maybe he expected the Americans to feed him?
Hope you like beef stew, Deke thought.
Like many of the guerrillas, his uniform, such as it was, had been pieced together out of battered civilian clothes and military castoffs. He wore stained chino pants that had been torn off below the knee like a pirate’s breeches, and an army shirt that had seen better days. The Filipino didn’t even wear any shoes. That was too much for Deke. He’d gone barefoot on the farm plenty of times in the summer as a boy, but his feet weren’t nearly as leathery as the guide’s. Then again, those bare feet enabled the man to move so silently it was as if he floated over the ground.
Up close, the man even smelled like the jungle, a wild, damp, earthy odor — with a bit of campfire smoke and sweat mixed in — that clung to the Filipino like a second skin.
The Filipino guide’s name turned out to be Danilo. Deke learned later that it was a Tagalog version of Daniel. Danilo would be joining them at the head of the column. He was a couple of inches shorter than Deke, lean and muscular as a panther, with dark, watchful eyes. One thing for sure, Danilo was a tough customer. He looked Deke up and down, assessing him, then gave him a satisfied nod.
“Do you know Padre Francisco?” Deke asked him.
Surprisingly, the hard set of Danilo’s mouth widened into a smile. “Padre Francisco? Si.”
Briefly, Deke tried to explain about the raid and how Father Francisco had helped them, but he gave up when he saw the blank expression on Danilo’s face as he struggled to understand English.
Still, the guide nodded as if he’d gotten the gist of what Deke had said. “Compañeros! Kill many Japs!” He grinned again and gave Deke’s shoulder a friendly slap and added in Tagalog, “Mga kaibigan!”
Deke nodded back. He reckoned that he and Danilo would get along just fine. They seemed to have Father Francisco in common, and, more importantly, they both agreed about killing Japs. Deke tried to repeat the Tagalog phrase, mangled it, and settled for saying, “Compañeros.”
No time was wasted getting the column moving. Some liked to joke that the military’s motto was “Hurry up and wait.” Maybe that was true under normal conditions, but not today. Although it was already afternoon, the company moved out. Deke would have preferred to get started in the morning. However, he understood the need for urgency. They had many miles of jungle to cross before this expedition was over, and each hour of daylight mattered.
There would be no point of even trying to go anywhere once night arrived. Deke knew from experience that the jungle dark was so thick that you really couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. The one exception was on bright, moonlit nights, when the jungle came alive with sounds and night creatures. Even then, moving along the narrow jungle trails after dark was hazardous enough without the Japanese to also worry about.
It was Danilo who led the troops down the trail, followed by Deke, then Philly and Yoshio close on his heels. Nearer to the village, the trail started out wide — it was essentially a dirt road leading into the forest. A few small homesteads had been carved out of the trees, but most seemed deserted, their inhabitants having fled to avoid getting caught in the middle of any fighting.
They were greeted by barking dogs and scratching chickens. A few of the soldiers broke ranks long enough to grab a chicken or two, wring its neck, and stuff it into their haversacks. Fresh chicken beat the hell out of canned rations. Deke could tell by Danilo’s scowl that he didn’t approve. For all they knew, these might be his friends’ chickens that would be roasting over Charlie Company’s fires tonight.
After a couple of miles, the road narrowed to a trail and the forest closed in. They arrived at a fork in the trail. There were no signs or markers of any kind, just trails leading in two directions. Danilo considered and then took the left fork. More time passed, and they came to another fork. After a moment of deliberation, Danilo took the right-hand turn.
Deke wasn’t encouraged by Danilo’s slight hesitation. I hope he knows where he’s going, he thought.
Deke realized that they had put an awful lot of trust in this Filipino. Who had picked him out as their guide, anyhow? He wasn’t worried about Danilo betraying them to the Japanese. Aside from a few obsequious public officials who had hoped to align their fortunes with the occupiers, the Filipinos seemed to universally hate the Japanese. However, it didn’t mean that they all made excellent jungle guides, even if Danilo looked the part. But it was too late to go back and find a new guide. At this point, they no longer had any choice but to follow the man. Deke just hoped they had the right man for the job.
The jungle was thick, the air hot and humid to the point of feeling like a wet blanket. The breeze that helped dispel the tropical heat closer to the sea had disappeared.
Deke wiped sweat off his face with his sleeve. There was so much dirt ground into his uniform at this point that it was hard to say if there was even any cloth left, but it seemed to do the job. He wiped off several bugs in the process — the air was thick with gnats and mosquitoes.
The last thing he needed was sweat in his eyes to foul up his aim. They didn’t expect any trouble from the Japanese yet, but Deke figured that you could never tell what those sneaky bastards were up to next.
Danilo glanced back at them from time to time, nodding as he urged them forward, scowling at the sluggish pace, but Deke and the others were forced to move slowly, picking their way along the trail, which had dense undergrowth lining the sides and clutching at them.