That was when the other marine sprang into action. Ball hurried forward, got an arm around Bat, and dragged him away from the bunker entrance. Bat was covered in dust from the blast, and bloody, but he still seemed to be alive.
Ball didn’t even attempt to throw his own satchel charge. More and more Japanese appeared from the swirling dust at the bunker entrance — and they were carrying more than shovels. Their rifles cracked as they opened fire, although it wasn’t clear that they knew yet what they were shooting at through the billowing dust and smoke. No matter — the message was clear. It was time to get out of Dodge.
In the midst of the chaos, a single rifle cracked with accurate fire, kicked up dirt near Ball’s head as he helped Bat get away from the bunker entrance. Deke realized the shots had come from below them, and he swung his rifle in that direction, searching through the telescopic sight for a target.
The two marines tumbled into a ditch and kept going. They ran stooped over, but the ditch wasn’t very deep. Another shot struck near Ball’s head, even closer this time. If he hadn’t been on the move, he would have been a dead man.
Deke spotted the Japanese sniper. To his surprise, the enemy soldier carried a rifle with a telescope. No wonder the bastard had nailed Bat in the first place. Also, he wasn’t alone. He was accompanied by a half dozen men who took their time aiming and firing their rifles with telling effect. A shorter, squat man who stood just behind the sniper, holding binoculars, was clearly his spotter.
One thing was clear — these Japs were trained marksmen. Patrol Easy had been lucky so far, but bullets began to sing past their ears or strike the ground around them.
Deke put his crosshairs on the enemy sniper and was in the process of squeezing the trigger when something exploded nearby with a flash-bang that threw off his aim. His bullet passed close enough to the enemy sniper to give him a close shave, like a pitcher brushing back a batter.
He had certainly gotten the other sniper’s attention. For a split second, they regarded each other through their riflescopes. Deke didn’t have a live round in the chamber — and lucky for him, he didn’t suppose that the Jap did either. Instead, they regarded each other coolly through their telescopic sights. Like Deke, the other sniper was not wearing a helmet but had on the billed cap that noncommissioned officers wore.
It was only a split second, but it was enough to leave an impression of the other sniper burned into his brain.
He worked the bolt, but by then it was too late. The moment had passed. The enemy sniper took cover, and Deke did the same. Given time, they might have hunted each other through the network of trenches, but this wasn’t how things were playing out.
Still, Deke wasn’t about to give up on fighting the sniper. He was like a dog with a bone. He slid his rifle over the lip of the trench. He was careful to keep his head behind a big rock. The Jap had already proved himself to be a good shot, so Deke wasn’t about to give him a target. Silently, he willed the Jap sniper to show himself.
But like Deke, the sniper had found good cover. Unseen, he sent shot after well-placed shot in the direction of the US soldiers. So far, he hadn’t hit anyone other than Bat, but the rifle shots weren’t making their retreat off the hill any easier.
Deke observed that the report of the lighter-caliber rifle was drowned out by the sound of other gunshots — especially a Nambu machine gun that the Japanese had gotten into action that now churned up the dirt in all directions. In their haste, the machine-gun crew was firing at anything that moved. Hit by a burst, a whole group of civilian laborers were mowed down.
Out of frustration, Deke gave up looking for the sniper and put his crosshairs on the machine-gun crew. A quick shot took out the gunner.
Next, he spotted a Japanese officer who stood atop a pillbox, waving a sword and shouting in an effort to organize the troops.
Deke squeezed the trigger and the officer went down. He worked the bolt, looking for another target.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Honcho shouted.
Deke wasn’t inclined to listen, thinking that he would hold off the enemy while the others got away.
But Honcho was having none of it. He grabbed Deke’s shoulder as he went past and pulled Deke after him.
Their spur-of-the-moment attack had failed to destroy the guns, but they had stirred up the hornet’s nest. Soldiers ran everywhere in confusion and officers shouted orders. The element of surprise was long gone. It had been a gamble that didn’t pay off. Deke didn’t even want to think about what that meant. Getting anywhere near the bunker again was going to be damn near impossible.
There was no time to think about that now as they raced back through the trenches, dodging fire as they ran. The civilian laborers scattered. One or two of the Japanese leaped at them, wildly swinging their shovels. One Jap made the mistake of trying to stop Philly, waving his shovel at him, and got a rifle butt in the face for his trouble. Philly jumped over the writhing body and kept going.
Getting down off the hill was much faster than climbing it had been. It wasn’t quite fear or panic, but the need for self-preservation had given wings to their feet. They raced back down the way that they had come. Their best hope of survival was to get off the hill as fast as possible, before they could be pinned down.
Deke was the last man off the hill. He and the rest of Patrol Easy fled into the jungle as bullets and bursts of machine-gun fire shredded the lush green leaves of the trees like confetti. From the hill behind them, above the sound of the furious guns, they heard screams of outrage growing closer.
The Japanese were now on the attack, pursuing them like dogs running after rabbits.
Sometimes you didn’t have any choice but to be a rabbit.
Deke ran like hell.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Running for their lives, the soldiers of Patrol Easy headed for cover in the forest. To their surprise, the Japanese did not bother to give chase. The angry shouts of pursuit faded, although the occasional rifle still cracked behind them. But the soldiers were out of sight and under cover — the Japanese were shooting at nothing.
Despite the furious cries of outrage over the surprise attack, the Japanese officers had called their men back before they reached the line of vegetation at the bottom of Hill 522. Lucky for them, the Japanese had not bothered to clear out the jungle growth at the base of the hill, although the hillside itself was mostly bare of trees. Deke and the others were more than happy to lose themselves in the lush greenery. They caught their breath and regrouped.
“Why the hell aren’t they coming after us?” Philly wanted to know, pausing in his flight just long enough to look back toward the hill.
“They probably don’t know if this is a raid or the start of the big attack they’ve been waiting for,” Steele explained. “For all the Japs know, there could be an entire division down here, waiting to hit them where it hurts.”
“You mean they’re afraid of us?” Philly asked in disbelief. “You could have fooled me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Say what you want about the Japs, but they’re not stupid. Maybe they thought this was a feint to draw them off the hill. The last thing they want to do is leave that hill unprotected.”
“Thank God for that!”
“Don’t count your blessings yet, Philly. There’s still an awful lot of Japs and just a few of us. Let’s just be grateful that they aren’t coming after us.”
Nobody could argue with that. As he loped along at the back of the group, Deke kept looking behind him, expecting at any moment to see a horde of angry enemy soldiers emerge from the wall of vegetation, no matter what Honcho said.