Not for the first time, Deke reckoned that the Japanese mind was a difficult thing to wrap your head around. They sure as hell don’t think like us.
Finally, the shadows stretched longer, and the light started to fade to the point where Deke could easily see the muzzle flashes of the enemy soldiers hidden among the rocks. One by one, he picked them off, keeping his head down. A few shots pinged off the rock in front of him. If he could see them, then they could see him as well. No sense giving the Japs any more of a target than necessary.
In the rocks across from him, there was no sign of Ikeda, who remained elusive.
Show yourself for just one second and see what happens.
He stared at the seemingly vacant vine-covered ravine, and the shadowy ravine stared back like the soul of the jungle itself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Once darkness began to flow in like the tide, Captain Merrick started giving orders to move out. If they stayed put on the ridge, there was no doubt that the Japanese would begin a series of night attacks to annihilate the Americans.
“We have to get moving,” Merrick said, delivering his orders in hushed tones. “We need to get the hell off this ridge and back into the cover of the jungle before it gets completely dark, or those Japs are going to be on us like flies on you know what.”
Nobody could argue with that. They all knew it was true. However, escaping from the Japanese trap was easier said than done.
They slipped off the ridge in small groups, using the narrow trail to go back in the direction that they had come from hours before. Retreating didn’t feel right, not when their mission was to get across the peninsula and link up with the rest of the division converging on Ormoc, but at the moment they had little choice. This was a matter of survival.
Everybody was worried about the Japanese slipping in behind them in the gathering darkness. Deke, Philly, Danilo, and Yoshio were the last men on the ridge, firing a few shots to trick the Japanese into thinking that the Americans were hanging on to that position. Finally, they joined the others crowded onto the jungle trail.
Once again, it was a lousy place to spend the night. The vegetation grew right up against the trail so that there was no place to really stretch out. Most men hunched themselves into a sitting position, so exhausted that they still managed to drift off. The only consolation was that the dense undergrowth made it unlikely that the Japanese could come at them from any direction except head-on. Nonetheless, fear of the Japanese had loomed large in their minds since the defeat that they had been handed in the ambush. Was there nothing that the Japanese weren’t capable of doing?
With that in mind, Captain Merrick posted the BAR gunner at the head of the column.
“If those Japs come at us, light them up,” Merrick said.
“I hope they do,” Private Frazier replied. “I wouldn’t mind cutting some of those Nips in half.”
“That’s the spirit,” Merrick said. “Keep talking that way, and don’t you worry, you’ll get your chance soon enough — we have to get across that ridge and on our way in the morning, no matter what. We can’t let those Japs hold us up.”
Deke sat on the ground near the others, rifle between his knees. Normally he would have set about cleaning the weapon, especially considering the number of rounds that he had put through the barrel today. He had given a good accounting of himself as a sniper, but they hadn’t managed to push the Japanese out of their stronghold in the ravine. The fight had also left Deke and the rest of the company perilously low on ammunition. They had scavenged what they could from the dead, but the truth was that they had only enough ammo for one more good fight.
He really ought to clean that rifle. However, as evening set in, he lacked even that much ambition. He was bone tired, worn out from the jungle trek and the grueling heat that they had faced all day.
He felt utterly defeated, outsmarted by the enemy sniper. He was sure that Ikeda had helped engineer the ambush that had taken the company by surprise. He had very nearly gotten the drop on Deke. Worst of all, Deke felt the loss of Dickie Shelby keenly. The young soldier had gambled with his life to bring them water during the worst of the tropical heat. He had managed to bring them the full canteens that sustained them through the fight, but at the cost of his life. What had Deke done? He shook his head, disgusted with himself.
“You ought to eat something,” Philly said quietly. It was as if he had read Deke’s mood. He handed him an open can of beef stew. It seemed to be the only thing there was to eat anymore. “Here, take it.”
Deke took the can, spooned in the cold stew without tasting it. “Much obliged,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty more. Let’s just say that if I run out of bullets and grenades, I can throw cans of stew at the Nips. God help them if they try to eat it. I’m sure the stuff could kill you if you haven’t built up a tolerance for it.”
Under the canopy of the forest, the dank air hung still, laden with the fecund smell of rotting vegetation. Insects buzzed in soldiers’ ears, got into their eyes and nostrils. Small creatures — some maybe not so small — rustled in the leaves and set their nerves on edge. From time to time, they felt something scuttle across their hands or the backs of their necks. Most of the men were too tired to care about that anymore. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
To compound their misery, there was concern that the Japanese would be paying them a visit. They always favored night attacks. They would know just where to find the Americans, who would have no choice but to shelter for the night along the narrow jungle trail. It would likely be another sleepless night for the GIs.
Philly had also given a can of stew to Danilo, who looked at it suspiciously but produced a small knife that he used to scoop out a mouthful. Deke had never seen anyone eat stew before with a knife, but the consistency of stew straight from the can was just thick enough to make it possible. Danilo’s knife was soon scraping the insides of the can to get every last drop. Deke wasn’t sure if the Filipino was starving or if he seemed to think that the stew was the best thing he’d ever eaten. The scraping carried deep into the vegetation on either side of them, but Danilo appeared unconcerned. When he was finally finished, he tossed the can away and stood up.
“Venga conmigo,” he said, looking down at Deke. Just in case Deke wasn’t sure what to make of that, Danilo waved at him in the universal gesture for “come with me.”
Deke stood, not sure what the Filipino had in mind. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and taken out his bolo blade. He swung it deftly once, twice, and parted the brush beside the trail to reveal an even narrower track — some kind of animal path. Deke hadn’t noticed it before — and no wonder, as the path disappeared quickly into the gathering gloom. Not for the first time, Deke found himself impressed by Danilo’s jungle craft. He chided himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings. Maybe he’d been too tired and just plain busy feeling sorry for himself.
Danilo ducked and moved into the forest.
Deke grinned. He knew exactly what Danilo had in mind.
“You’re not going with that crazy bastard, are you?” Philly asked. “That looks like a path for rabbits — if they even have those here — or maybe something even smaller. Chipmunks, maybe.”
“I reckon I know what he’s up to,” Deke said. “Let’s just say that I’m cookin’ corn bread in my own house, and I know where the cornmeal’s at.”
Philly shook his head. “I sure wish I knew what the hell you were saying. Honestly, Deke, it’s like you speak a foreign language sometimes. One from the last century.”