Down the slope behind him, Deke heard angry shouting. Was it the Japs coming after them? He took his eye off the scope long enough to look down the slice of slope that he could still see.
A terrible spectacle was taking place there. It appeared that the Japanese forces had captured four of the Filipino guerrillas. Fortunately, Deke didn’t see Yoshio, who must have gotten away.
The Filipino guerrillas had been forced to kneel in the dirt. With a sense of dread, Deke realized that one of the men was Pinstripe. Somehow he had survived the raid only to be captured by the Japanese. He had still been wearing the Japanese uniform tunic, but a soldier ripped it off him, none too gently, revealing the Filipino’s trademark pinstripe shirt with its contrasting collar. The other guerrillas were also stripped of their Japanese uniforms. It was as if the Japanese did not want their precious uniforms sullied by the guerrillas.
The Japanese had a reputation for being cruel to prisoners, and with a sinking feeling, Deke realized that he now had a front-row seat to see just how those prisoners were treated.
Next, an officer appeared. Ominously, he carried a drawn sword. He approached the prisoners and stopped behind the first man, looming over him. The officer set his feet, got a good grip on the samurai sword with both hands, and raised the gleaming blade over his head.
A soldier stepped forward and forced the kneeling man to tilt his chin down to better expose his neck. The captured man knew what was coming and had little choice but to cooperate. As the soldier moved away, the blade slashed down. Deke watched in horror as the Filipino’s head separated from his body and rolled in the dirt.
The officer moved behind the next man, careful to avoid the dark pool of blood spreading across the dirt.
Ever so slightly, Deke started to shift his rifle around. He settled the crosshairs on the Japanese officer as the Jap raised his sword once again.
“Don’t even think about it,” Philly whispered.
“You saw what he just did. I can’t let those bastards get away with that.”
“Right now, that Jap sniper is the only one who seems to know where we are. He hasn’t been able to get word to anyone else yet. If you shoot Errol Flynn down there, the rest of the Japs will know we’re here.”
“Dammit, Philly—”
“See all those guns down there pointed at the Filipinos? It’s not like they’re going to stand up and walk away if you shoot that guy with the sword.”
Deke kept his sights on the officer. Deep down, he knew Philly was right.
But still.
He held his fire.
The sword swung down, decapitating another man.
Then the officer got to Pinstripe. The sword rose.
Philly uttered one last warning, “Deke, don’t you do it.”
Ignoring Philly, he put the crosshairs on the Japanese officer — and held steady. He couldn’t miss.
But Deke took his finger off the trigger, hating himself for doing it. In the end, he supposed that he didn’t really owe Pinstripe anything. Besides, they still had the mission to complete. But he hated to see a brave man slaughtered like a hog or a steer.
The sword swept down. Pinstripe’s body joined the others, spilling their life’s blood into the soil that they had fought for against the Japanese. The Filipinos had been incredibly brave and determined.
Gritting his teeth, Deke put his rifle sights back on the spot where they thought the Jap sniper was hidden. There was still no sign of him, however. They seemed to have each other pinned down. Just how long could they keep this up?
Deke heard another shout from the hillside below.
Now what?
He took his eye off the scope long enough to see that the Japanese spotter had reached the group of soldiers who had overseen the executions. The man was pointing up the slope toward the spot where Deke and Philly lay hidden.
“Uh-oh,” Philly said. “Looks like we’re about to have company.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for that sniper. See if you can hold off the rest of them.”
Philly opened fire, causing more angry shouts from the hillside below. Instantly, bullets began to churn the dirt around them as the soldiers figured out where they were hidden. Their foxholes sheltered them from most of the fusillade, but now they were seriously pinned down. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, between the troops coming at them from below and the sniper perched above them. So far the sniper still hadn’t shown himself, although Deke still kept his attention focused on the scope while Philly fired downhill at the Japanese.
Come on, come on.
He could hear the firing and the shouts of the enemy drawing closer from below. From the constant crack of Philly’s rifle, it was clear that he was trying to hold them off, but there were just too many enemy troops coming at them.
Deke reached down and touched the pistol in his belt. If it came down to it, he’d save the last bullet for himself rather than be taken alive. He had already seen how the Japanese treated their prisoners. I’ll be damned if some Jap is gonna cut my head off.
He forced himself to focus on the limited field of view through his telescope that had reduced his world to a narrow circle of red-tinged dirt and shadows that might have been the hiding spot for the Japanese sniper.
Finally, there it was. Just the hint of a muzzle flash.
Over in his foxhole, Philly yelped in pain.
Deke fired at where he’d seen the muzzle flash.
He ran the bolt, fired again. Impossible to tell if he’d hit anything. But the Jap sniper had fallen silent for now.
The fact that they weren’t being shot at had emboldened the other Japanese, who now surged up the hill. Ominously, Philly had stopped firing at them.
“Philly, are you all right?” Deke shouted.
“Punched a hole in my helmet, but I’ll live. Did you get him?”
“Don’t know yet, but here come the rest of the Nips.”
It wasn’t looking good. If they’d had M1 rifles, rather than the slower-firing bolt-action Springfield rifles, maybe they would’ve had a chance. Deke touched the handle of the pistol once again, just to reassure himself. If it came down to it, all he needed were a few seconds, and one bullet.
That was when a tremendous explosion ripped across the hilltop beyond them. Deke looked up to see smoke and debris swirling around the entrance to the bunker.
It looked as if the rest of the team had gotten to those guns, after all.
The blast took the Japanese by surprise, prompting a momentary lull in the firing.
It was now or never.
Deke jumped out of the foxhole. Nearby, Philly had the same idea and came scrambling out of his own foxhole.
“They did it,” Philly said in amazement.
But Deke didn’t want to stand around and discuss it. “Run!”
They both headed back down the ridge, running full tilt for the trees, expecting at any moment to catch a bullet in the back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Given an opportunity to retreat, Deke and Philly ran like hell for the rendezvous point. The first leg meant getting off Hill 522 in one piece. Lucky for them, it was all downhill, first along the spine of the Y at the top of Hill 522, and then down the slope of the hill itself.
Not far behind them, they could hear shouts and small arms fire.
“Here they come!” Philly warned.
“Don’t look back. Just run.”
The blast from the bunker had startled the Japanese troops, but not for long. Murderous cries and gunshots followed them as they ran, with bullets clipping the air around them. They jumped into a trench for cover, ran down its length, and jumped back out, that much closer to the relative safety of the forest’s edge.
From their vantage point on the hill, they could easily spot the massive, dying tree that served as a landmark for the clearing in the forest where they had spent the night. That was where they were headed. The massive Philippine rosewood — known locally as a toog tree — towered above the rest of the jungle canopy. Scarred from lightning strikes, the gray, grizzled trunk stood out against the green forest surrounding it like a lighthouse on the shore. The old tree drew them now like a beacon.