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“None taken,” the priest said. “It is God you should worry about offending, my friend.”

“If you say so. Considering the things I’ve seen the last few months, I have to wonder if there even is a God.”

The priest nodded. “I am sure you have your doubts, my son, and maybe not without good reason. But let us set aside the mystery of God for the time being, and consider how to defeat the Japanese.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Honcho agreed.

The priest continued, “I have not been out here in the forest all this time for nothing. This whole time, I have watched the Japanese turn this hill into a fortress.”

“That’s for damn sure. Oh, sorry again, Padre. For darn sure.”

Father Francisco shrugged, as if mild profanity was the least of his concerns. “It is indeed a formidable fortress. But you see, the Japanese are expecting an attack from the beaches. Their defenses are facing that direction. Toward the sea.”

“Agreed. That’s the direction we hit them from this morning. I’ve got to say, the only reason we got on that hill was that they weren’t expecting us. It will be a different story when we try again, but we don’t have much choice.”

The priest nodded. “The Japanese are expecting a frontal assault. As you said, they will be ready for an attack, whether it is your small patrol or a regiment. But where do you think the Japanese bring in supplies for the men on the hill or communicate with their other forces in the area? For that, there is a trail up the north slope of the hillside.”

This time, it was Lieutenant Steele who offered a predatory smile. “Go on. I’m listening.”

It was true that the hill made an outstanding natural fortress. On two sides, it was bordered by the Bangon River, which created a moat of sorts, almost like the moats surrounding ancient castles. The steep hillside sloping down toward what would surely be the beach landing area was indeed well defended, bristling with pillboxes, trenches, and machine-gun nests.

But as Father Francisco explained it, the Japanese had created a supply route — actually a series of trails and trenches — right up the northern face of the hillside to bring in ammunition and reinforcements. It would be the last direction that they expected an attack to come from.

“It is what you would call a back door,” the priest said with a grin.

“Then I supposed I’m what you might call a backdoor man,” Honcho said, grinning back. “Please tell me everything you know, Padre.”

* * *

The plan that evolved was simple enough — and downright devious. They had the priest to thank for the devious parts. It was kind of impressive for a man of God. In fact, come to think of it, maybe they should have been a little worried about his soul.

There in the clearing, the lieutenant explained the plan. “We’ll rest here tonight. If the priest is right, the Japs will be looking for us toward the front of the hill, maybe expecting us to make a run for the beach.”

“They will not be expecting you on their back porch,” the priest said.

Out of the group, only Philly did not seem entirely convinced. He shared his doubts with Deke. “If you ask me, it sounds like we’re putting our lives in the hands of this priest,” he muttered. “Hell, we don’t know anything about him. Can we even trust him?”

As it turned out, Father Francisco had overheard Philly. “I understand your concerns, my son. However, you are not putting your lives in my hands,” the priest said.

“Coulda fooled me.”

The priest smiled, not unkindly. He seemed to appreciate their doubts. “No, my son, you are putting your lives in God’s hands.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

“Pipe down, Philly,” Deke said. To him, the priest appeared trustworthy enough. Besides, they didn’t seem to have many options. “Have you got any better ideas? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not make a run straight up that hill. Like Honcho said, the Japs will be expecting us next time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Philly grumbled, not sounding entirely convinced.

If the others had doubts, they kept them to themselves — as Deke had pointed out, they didn’t have much choice. They were on a Japanese-occupied island, being hunted, their radio was gone, and they had no hope of rescue if they missed their window of opportunity. The priest and his knowledge of the local geography seemed to be their best chance.

Lieutenant Steele gathered them around and reviewed even more details of the plan. Once again, he had put his head together with the priest. The result was that the priest had produced several piles of Japanese uniforms — torn, dirty, and sometimes bloodstained, but recognizable as Japanese. There were even a few Japanese helmets. Nobody came right out and explained it, but Deke suspected that the uniforms had come off Japanese troops who had run afoul of the guerrillas.

“What’s all this for?” Philly wondered.

“I’ll get to that Japanese gear in a minute,” Honcho said. “This is going to be a three-pronged attack. With any luck, we’ll be able to use this back door that Father Francisco gave us to get close enough to those guns for Bat and Ball to destroy them.”

Using a stick, Honcho sketched out a rough map in the dirt of the clearing.

“Father Francisco and the Filipinos will lead us up the hill using the supply path that’s the back door. There will likely be some sentries, so we’ll have to do what we can to take them out before they can sound the alarm. Our job will be to get Bat and Ball as close as we can to that battery. Bat, how’s that shoulder? Can you make it?”

“Can a camel cross the desert? You’re talking to a marine here, sir. I’ll get up that hill no matter what.”

“All right. I know you will. But those are all the explosives we have, so don’t foul it up by getting shot again. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” The two marines exchanged a look. Bat seemed to hesitate, but then added, “Ball and I have been talking. The thing is, we’re a little worried that the satchel charge won’t be enough. You saw the size of those guns, sir. We may need to ram something right down the barrels to blow them up. Either that or we need to set off the magazine and blow that entire hilltop.”

“I don’t disagree. The question is, Can you get that close?”

“We can sure as hell try. The problem is that the Japs will be expecting us.”

Honcho nodded. “Maybe not. That’s what these Jap uniforms are for. That’s where Yoshio comes in.”

“Me?” Yoshio sounded surprised.

“What you’re going to do is take a handful of the good priest’s Filipinos and come right up the hill, shouting that the Americans are after you. In other words, your job is to create confusion and raise havoc. Get as close as possible. The last thing that the Japanese will expect is that one of the Americans is shouting at them in Japanese. Meanwhile, that will give Bat and Ball a chance to make another run at the bunker.”

“Hai,” Yoshio replied in Japanese, sounding more than a little convincing.

“You’ll be wearing those Japanese helmets and uniforms that Father Francisco was good enough to provide us with — with any luck, they’ll hold their fire until it’s too late. You and the Filipinos will start shooting, and all their attention will be on you. In other words, you are going to be sort of a walking, talking Trojan horse.”

Yoshio just nodded. It went without saying that he had been given the most dangerous prong of the attack to carry out. If the Japanese on Hill 522 became at all suspicious of Yoshio and the disguised guerrillas, they wouldn’t last more than a few seconds once those Nambu machine guns opened fire.