He put his rifle sights right between Ikeda’s shoulder blades.
Deke reckoned that it would have been more sporting to give the man a shout. Give him a chance to turn around and defend himself, or at least to know that he was about to die.
To hell with that.
Deke squeezed the trigger.
At the first growls of the storm on the horizon, Ikeda had welcomed the opportunity to launch a raid against the Americans he knew were cowering in the jungle, probably along the path that led to the ridge.
The Americans had been beaten back from the ridge during daylight, and he was sure that they would try again at dawn. He and the other Japanese did not intend for them to sleep well, he thought with a rueful smile.
The storm arrived even faster than he had expected, wind gusting through the trees and forks of lightning in the sky. Some of his fellow soldiers cowered among the rocks, which he found amusing. Considering all that they had faced, a storm seemed to be the least of their worries.
Cutting through the growing noise of wind and thunder, he heard excited shouts and then gunshots from the other side of the ridge. What was going on? Were they under attack? It would have been a bold move by the Americans. Rifle at the ready, Ikeda hurried in that direction to investigate.
In a pulse of lightning, he saw a lone figure standing on the ridge. The figure wore an American uniform and stood defiantly, not moving even as the Japanese troops began firing at him.
What caught Ikeda’s attention more than anything else was the hat that the lone soldier wore. It was a broad-brimmed bush hat with one side pinned up — exactly what the American sniper wore. He had faced this same sniper on the ridge today, and even during the Americans’ raid on Guinhangdan Hill, when they had managed to knock out the massive battery guarding Leyte Gulf.
The other soldiers couldn’t seem to hit the man, but Ikeda had no doubts about his own marksmanship. He put the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the telescopic sight. At this range he couldn’t miss.
But the lightning faded and plunged the ridge into darkness. Ikeda cursed silently and waited, still as a statue himself.
Another bolt of lightning revealed the American sniper still standing there. Ikeda felt himself both surprised and outraged by the way the American seemed to scoff at them, as if sure that the Japanese were such poor shots.
Ikeda knew that he would not miss. As the flash of lightning lingered, he put his sights on the defiant figure and fired.
He worked the bolt of his Arisaka rifle, stamped with the chrysanthemum emblem of Emperor Hirohito. He had to wait a few moments for the next flash of lightning. To his amazement, the figure still stood on the ridge. Now a machine gun opened fire, hurling tracers at the figure, which still didn’t move.
What? How?
Ikeda realized that the figure was a trick. It was nothing more than a kakashi. A scarecrow. Enraged, he started to run toward it to tear the thing down, then thought better of it with so many soldiers firing wildly at the ragged scarecrow.
The enemy must have erected the kakashi as a diversion. Where would the enemy sniper be? Behind them, that was where. Ikeda started to turn.
Too late.
He felt a hammer blow between his shoulder blades. He toppled forward into the mud and rainwater, unable to move, dimly aware that he had been shot, unable to breathe. As his vision faded, the last thing he saw was the scarecrow with the broad-brimmed hat looming over him.
Then Ikeda died.
Deke hunkered down as the Japanese fired wildly, expending a lot of ammunition to shoot up the dark trees and clumps of kunai grass. Little did they know that there wasn’t anybody out here but him.
But not for long. He was suddenly aware of movement behind him and swung his rifle in that direction, worried that the Japanese had somehow gotten behind him. A clump of grass parted to reveal Danilo’s grinning face.
“Hola,” he whispered.
Philly appeared, then Yoshio.
“I can’t believe I’m actually happy to see you fellas,” Deke said.
“We couldn’t let you take on the whole Japanese army by yourself,” Philly said. He looked Deke up and down as more lightning illuminated the ridge. “Holy hell, did the Japs steal your clothes? You’re bare-ass naked.”
“Still got my boots on,” Deke pointed out.
There wasn’t time to explain. Behind them came Captain Merrick’s company, pushing up the ridge to attack the Japanese, who were in complete disarray on account of Deke’s diversion. The storm added to their confusion.
The BAR added its own lightning to the night, the muzzle flashes reaching nearly two feet from the barrel. It was the Japanese who were now exposed on the ridge, and the Americans used the lightning flashes to target any Japanese that they could see. Those enemy soldiers who didn’t die right away scattered into the night.
Once the shooting died down, Deke walked over to the scarecrow with Philly and Yoshio and retrieved his uniform. He held up his shirt and trousers, which were shot full of holes. “I reckon those Japs can shoot, after all.”
“Look at it this way,” Philly said. “You won’t need to unbutton anything to take a leak.”
Somehow his hat had come through unscathed. Some guys had a lucky rabbit’s foot or a Saint Christopher medal to keep them safe, but Deke was starting to think that maybe the hat was his lucky charm.
They found the Japanese sniper facedown in the mud left by the downpour. There was a coin-size bullet hole right between his shoulder blades.
The Arisaka sniper rifle lay nearby. Deke picked it up and presented it to Danilo. The Filipino guide looked through the telescopic sight, then nodded with satisfaction.
The ridge never had been Captain Merrick’s real objective but only an obstacle to a clear route forward. As the thunder and lightning faded away, they dug in. Their accommodations were soggy, muddy, and buggy, but with the Japanese dispersed and less of a threat, each man got a few hours of sleep when he wasn’t on watch.
The company was up and moving at first light, with Deke and Danilo leading the way. Out in the open, sunlight appeared quickly and dried their wet uniforms and gear. The morning sun added warmth and a touch of optimism. But all too soon they were back in the shaded depths of the jungle itself.
Even so, Deke felt relieved that there didn’t seem to be any sign of the Japanese. They were surely still out there, licking their wounds, but they were apparently too disorganized to be a threat at the moment.
The jungle path was now open before them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
On the beach near Palo, more supply vessels and men continued to pour in. The roar of aircraft overhead was constant, but this was no longer cause for concern. These were friendly aircraft. Not an enemy plane was to be seen.
By now, the firing from Japanese positions had been silenced. However, that didn’t mean there weren’t the usual challenges of tides and surf, reefs, wet sand that mired vehicles up to their axles, and the omnipresent tropical heat and rain.
The dense, humid air and unrelenting sun were enough to make soldiers wistful for the cool fall weather that would be arriving back home. It was October, after all, and the leaves would be changing colors everywhere from the hills of Virginia to the mountains of New Hampshire. There would be football games and cheerful orange pumpkins on front porches, apple butter making and cider pressing, not to mention the not-too-distant promise of Thanksgiving. Roast turkey. Stuffing and gravy. A fella could be forgiven for feeling a little homesick.