But there was no hint of autumn on the tropical beach. Most soldiers stripped off their shirts and got the best tans of their lives as they toiled in the Pacific sun, unloading endless crates of material that included food to feed the Filipinos who had suffered so much during the cruel Japanese occupation.
Along with the supplies came armies of clerks, who set up their typewriters under tarps and set to work keeping track of everything from crates to copies of orders written during the heat of combat. They also tallied the dead.
Losses of American troops were tallied into the thousands, and the campaign was not yet over. Japanese losses had been even heavier, reaching into the tens of thousands, but the clerks didn’t concern themselves with that. Those numbers would be left up to the military historians to figure out.
Although the shooting on the beach had stopped except for the frequent infiltrators at night, the fight for Leyte was far from over. Even if American victory must have seemed inevitable to General Yamashita, whose career had been sidelined at times for his pragmatic views, surrender was not an option. After all, he was known as the “Tiger of Malaya” for his conquest of Malaya and Singapore during the early days of the war. General Yamashita was now a cornered tiger, making him a dangerous adversary.
Similar to other Pacific campaigns, it had become clear that no matter how many more troops landed on the beach, no matter how many more American planes filled the skies, there would be no capitulation. The Japanese would fight on, whether in large units or small groups, holding out until the bitter end in remote jungle caves and clearings.
On paper, at least, the Japanese remained in considerable strength on Leyte and the Philippines in general. The Japanese still possessed tens of thousands of soldiers, all with a fanatical determination to fight the enemy until their last breath.
However, the numbers belied the fact that the Japanese were in jeopardy because of their shattered supply lines. Japanese supply ships or flights would no longer be arriving on Leyte on a regular basis. The noose had been tightened around the Philippines. The ships and planes constantly lost by the Japanese could not be replaced. Not only that, but with the United States controlling the seas and skies, enemy supplies and reinforcements had a difficult time getting through.
It was true that the Japanese insisted on sending more men to Leyte, but only a few transports reached shore. The effort to reinforce Leyte made as much sense as smashing eggs against a brick wall in an attempt to make an omelet. The resulting loss of men as the Japanese troopships were sunk was senseless and even tragic — so many young lives wasted in the seas around the Philippines. However, the Japanese high command was unwavering in its efforts to resupply the Philippines.
There was a reason for this tremendous effort to retain the Philippines. It was an act of desperation. Although at a considerable distance from Japan, the Philippines was not quite on the doorstep to Japan, but it was certainly in the neighborhood. The soldiers on the ground couldn’t see it, but on the big maps on General MacArthur’s headquarters it was clear that whoever controlled the Philippines also controlled the main sea routes that supplied Japan with vital materials. Being a vast island made Japan itself more defensible, but it also made it vulnerable. The island nation simply did not produce all the resources that it needed, particularly oil to power its planes, ships, and war machine.
Finally, once the Japanese were ultimately defeated here, it meant yet another base of operations one step closer to the home islands of Japan. More bombers would soon be on the way to reduce Emperor Hirohito’s proud cities to ashes.
The plans that MacArthur had made while studying the maps on his office walls were finally becoming reality.
He had returned as promised. However, the Japanese were not yet defeated.
On a troopship steaming toward Ormoc, the other members of Patrol Easy kept an uneasy eye on the skies. Against all odds, the Japanese still managed to put a few aircraft into play from remote airfields, including the one at Ormoc.
“Planes!” someone shouted.
“Are they Japs or ours?”
Nervously, the soldiers on deck watched the squadron pass overhead without paying any attention to the ship below. They were exposed on the deck, helpless, unable to fight back. Sitting ducks. It wasn’t a feeling anybody liked.
“Relax, boys, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Lieutenant Steele said. “We’re in the hands of the United States Navy. From the looks of it, these sailors have had plenty of practice shooting Japs out of the sky.”
It was true that the sailors were manning their antiaircraft guns with the confidence of men who had used the weapons before. They stared grimly into the blue tropical sky. The thought wasn’t lost on more than a few men that it was too nice of a day, what with the blue sky and the sea breeze, to be fighting a war.
“It’s all right. They’re ours,” Lieutenant Steele announced. He had only one good eye, but he could see out of it like an eagle. “You can go change your underwear now.”
A collective sigh of relief could be felt across the deck when others also realized that these were US planes.
The approaching planes had gotten everyone’s attention, all right, but the sailors stationed at the antiaircraft batteries began to visibly relax as the aircraft passed them by. The Japanese would have at least tried to strafe the transport ship.
The planes had come in from the sea, meaning that they were carrier aircraft. When the planes were completely past the ship, the buzz of their engines faded and the planes turned away, headed north toward the mass of the Philippines.
“I wonder where they’re headed?” Alphabet asked, reaching into his pocket for a deck of cards now that the danger had passed.
“Probably to give the Japs hell somewhere,” Rodeo said. “Go get ’em, boys!”
The soldiers went back to passing the time as best they could. Egan snoozed on the deck, using his war dog, Thor, as a pillow. Man and dog had been oblivious to the sight of the planes. Alphabet and Rodeo were playing cards with some other soldiers, betting a few dollars just to keep things interesting.
By chance they had once again found themselves on the same ship as Woodall’s Scouts. Having seen action already on Leyte, they were no longer the clean-shaven braggarts that they had been. They had learned that it took more than wearing a fancy uniform and being a good shot to survive on the battlefield.
Steele couldn’t take it easy like the men because the army wouldn’t let him. Due to the shortage of officers — many of them lost on Guam or in the initial fighting on Leyte — Steele had been given command of somebody else’s platoon. It wasn’t his idea, because he could have done without the headache. The men were veterans, though, and kept their heads down. They could tell that their new lieutenant knew his business, and there wasn’t any resentment toward him, as there might have been toward a “butter bar” replacement. The streaks of gray in his hair conveyed more than his rank. Steele may have been the oldest man on the ship, including the skipper.
He let the sergeants do the heavy lifting in terms of organizing the men on deck and keeping order. When the time came, Steele would lead them ashore with what remained of Patrol Easy.
He glanced at the navy boys still studying the skies. They seemed to know their business. Still, it wasn’t easy putting your fate in someone else’s hands. A soldier preferred to have both feet firmly on the ground — not the deck of a troop transport — with his rifle in his hands.
Grimly, Steele knew that they’d have that opportunity soon enough. The transport ship was taking them to the far shore of the Leyte Peninsula, where the Japanese still had a stronghold around the town of Ormoc and its airfield. There would be another beach landing ahead of them.