But Honcho seemed to have called it right as usual, and no one came after them. The Japanese had grown cautious. The hill quickly disappeared behind a screen of trees and brush. They could have been utterly alone if they hadn’t known about the thousands of Japanese, just out of sight. The jungle growth was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it hid them well. On the other hand, an entire enemy reconnaissance patrol might be lurking behind the next shrub.
Right now, they had more immediate concerns. First of all, they had a wounded man. Ball was helping Bat along. The tall marine had been wounded in the shoulder by the Japanese sniper. Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with his legs. He was mobile, but he was in plenty of pain.
Once they had gone deep into the brush, Steele called a halt.
“All right, everybody, no sense running scared if nobody’s chasing us. Deke, keep an eye out and shoot anything that moves.”
“Yep,” Deke replied laconically. It went without saying that Deke was already on it, with his rifle pointed in the direction of their back trail.
“How’s that shoulder?” the lieutenant asked Bat.
“I guess I’ll live.”
“Let me take a look.” Honcho crouched beside Bat, who was taking a drink from his canteen. He grimaced as Lieutenant Steele poked at the wound. “It looks like the bullet went through and through, as far as I can tell. You’re lucky.”
“The Japs are gonna have to do better than that to take me out,” Bat said. “It’s just a scratch.”
“A scratch, huh? If you say so. All right, let’s patch you up as best we can for now. Rodeo, have you still got some of that sulfa powder I gave you? I’ve got to say, I wish Egan was still here. He might not be an actual medic, but he did a good job of patching us up on Guam.”
But Egan wasn’t there, so they would have to fix Bat up as best as they could. Having a wounded man weighing them down was one of the worst scenarios that they could find themselves in, given their current situation. Considering their mission, it would have been much better for a man to simply be killed outright. However, Bat still seemed mobile enough. He gritted his teeth and didn’t say a word as Honcho moved to patch him up. One thing for sure, the marine was a tough son of a bitch. As for Honcho, he had patched up his share of wounds, and his fingers deftly bandaged the arm.
“What’s the plan now, Honcho?” Philly wondered. He scowled at Rodeo. “If we still had that radio, I guess we’d be calling for help right about now. There’s no way we can get anywhere near those guns now that the Japs know we’re here.”
Steele glared in Philly’s direction. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Radio or not, we’re not going anywhere until we take out those guns. That was why we were sent here, and that’s what we’re going to do. In just a few days, there will be thousands of our boys headed for that beach, not to mention who knows how many ships just offshore. Do you want that battery to still be in operation?”
Philly looked away and shook his head. “I guess not.”
“I hope to hell not. It would be a slaughter. No, it’s our job to take out that battery, no matter what. If there’s just one of us left who can still crawl up there and toss a grenade at it, then that’s what we have to do. Understood?”
Philly nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The others grunted. Nobody liked this situation, but they all knew what they needed to do, one way or another. Those guns had to be destroyed.
“Good,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t want to hear any more talk of radios or rescue. We can worry about that once we take out that gun.”
“You got it, Honcho.”
The lieutenant gave orders to keep moving, just to put added distance between themselves and the enemy soldiers on the hill.
Keeping his eyes wide open and his finger on the trigger, Deke threaded his way through the forest at the base of the hill, sticking to the thickest vegetation to stay under cover. This was not the heaviest jungle that he had encountered in the Pacific, but there was no doubt that a Japanese patrol might be heading toward them, and they would have no warning before the two groups ran right into each other.
On hyperalert, something caught Deke’s ears — or maybe his eyes. He couldn’t even identify if it was a flicker in the bush or an unnatural sound that didn’t belong, but it was there all the same. A boyhood spent in the mountains had made him keenly attuned to anything out of place in the natural world, much the way that a musician’s senses might be jarred by a false note.
He signaled to the others behind him to halt, and then moved forward silently on his own. Was it a Japanese patrol? Surely, the enemy must be combing the forest, looking for them. Deke doubted that he could do much against an enemy force of any size, except hold them off long enough to buy the others time to slip away.
The long green fronds of a small tree hung down in front of him, and he used his rifle barrel to push them aside. It was like pulling back a curtain, revealing a small clearing in the forest.
What Deke saw next was unexpected.
Within the middle of the clearing stood a man in a black robe and a clerical collar. Deke was no expert on religion, but he knew enough to recognize a Catholic priest when he saw one.
Beside him stood two tough-looking Filipinos wearing rope-soled sandals and ragged clothing. They held Japanese rifles that had most likely been liberated from the occupying enemy. Improbably, one of the men wore a bedraggled pinstriped dress shirt with a contrasting collar that made him look like a disgraced banker. When they saw Deke emerging from the forest and realized that he wasn’t a Japanese soldier, the two Filipinos lowered their weapons. Slowly, Deke did the same.
The priest put his finger to his lips. Deke nodded. The priest pointed into the wall of vegetation to one side of the clearing.
All at once, Deke heard footsteps and muffled voices moving through the forest. Definitely a Japanese patrol, and there was no doubt as to their purpose. They were hunting the infiltrators. It was hard to say how far away the enemy patrol was — hidden from view, and considering how the vegetation played tricks with how sound traveled, the Japanese might have been fifty feet away, or a quarter of a mile.
All four men held their breath until the sounds of the patrol faded and disappeared. Behind Deke, the rest of Patrol Easy moved up. Soon, they all stood in the clearing, regarding the three men they had discovered in the forest.
The priest spoke first.
“I am Father Francisco,” the priest said in gently accented English. “I heard the shooting and knew that it wasn’t any of my men. I was wondering what was going on and thought it might be American commandos. We heard rumors that a boat had landed during the night. We were hoping that we might find you before the Japanese did.”
“There’s just the three of you?” the lieutenant asked.
“There are others nearby,” the priest said, then looked around at the soldiers, seeming puzzled. “I am afraid that you are going to need more men than that to fight the Japanese.”
“Don’t worry about that, Padre,” said Honcho, stepping forward to shake the priest’s hand. “I’m Lieutenant Steele.”
“Father Francisco de los Santos.”
“Good to meet you, Padre. Like I said, there’s plenty more where we came from. They’ll be landing on this island soon enough.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“What are you doing out here in the jungle? Last time I saw a priest, he was in a church.”
The priest shook his head. “Sadly, the Japanese have little use for priests or churches. Since the occupation, they have arrested most of the priests and even our sisters.” The priest shuddered, and it was hard to tell whether it was from anger or sadness. “I have been living out here for the last year, doing what I can to minister to men like these who are fighting against the occupiers. I pray with them, I bandage their wounds, I help them bury their dead.”