“I knew there was a catch.”
“There always is, or what would they need us for? Not only is the road well defended, but the Japanese have wired the bridges for demolition. The ones that aren’t ready to fall down, anyhow. Rumor has it that they’ve set up ambushes whenever there is a sharp bend in the road.”
The designation of Highway 2 was overly optimistic, considering that in places it wasn’t much more than a wide dirt road through the rice paddies and forests. Steele added that intelligence reports indicated there were at least forty-two bridges to cross, though most spanned relatively small rivers or streams. Unfortunately for the advancing American troops, each bridge might prove to be a substantial obstacle.
You had to hand it to the Japanese, Deke thought. Having lost Ormoc, they had simply pulled back and planned to defend every inch of the path that US forces would have to take to reach the next objective. By demolishing bridges, and perhaps by planting land mines, they could certainly roll up the carpet behind them.
But the GIs weren’t going to cooperate by marching right into the enemy guns. Instead, Lieutenant Steele went on to explain that the plan was to cut across the highway and come at the Japanese farther up the road, where they might not expect an attack.
“Our job will be to reconnoiter that route for the rest of the division,” he explained. “That’s where the rice paddies come in.”
“Dammit,” Philly swore. “I guess I won’t bother getting my socks washed, after all.”
“That’s the spirit,” Steele said.
On the outskirts of Ormoc were sprawling rice fields that bordered both sides of the so-called highway. Where the rice paddies ended, there were sometimes a few dry, open acres of pastureland used for cattle. Of course, the cattle were long gone, having been taken to feed the enemy. Beyond the rice paddies and pastureland was where the jungle tended to begin, rolling all the way up into the hills deep in the interior.
A few low-hanging rain clouds chased each other around those low, distant hills. From time to time they could hear booming noises that were either thunder or artillery, or maybe a little of both.
Rice was an important commodity in the region, another reason the Japanese were so eager to keep and hold Ormoc. Not only did rice feed their troops, but the hope was that some of the abundant crop might even find its way back to Japan.
However, a drought that corresponded with the war, along with a labor shortage, had dashed those hopes. Still, the Japanese had made tending the rice paddies a wartime priority in terms of how the Filipino laborers were used. Rice was a crop that required water, meaning that these large open fields were flooded.
It wasn’t long before the soldiers headed out. It was tough going once they left the dry land behind and struck out across the rice paddies. The water only amplified the heat, reflecting the tropical sun like a vast mirror. The proximity to so much water added to the humidity, and they were all soon dripping with sweat. Bad as the jungle could be, Deke felt the sun flogging his back and missed the shade that the forest trees provided. At least his nonregulation broad-brimmed hat offered some relief.
Their slow progress across the vast flooded field was emphasized by the occasional fighter plane that zipped overhead with a roar — and then was gone.
The rice was planted in haphazard fashion so that it grew in scattered clumps rather than neat rows. Having grown up on a farm, Deke had more than a passing interest in the crop. The lack of order bothered him, and he thought it would have been more efficient to plant the rice in rows. He grinned to himself and hefted his rifle, realizing that the farming life was far behind him now. Although he missed the land, he doubted that he’d ever want to go back to the plow.
Due to the unevenness of the underlying ground, the depth of the water varied. In some places, they sank up to their knees in the muck and mire. Mud sucked at their boots.
“One thing for damn sure, if someone starts shooting at us, we won’t be able to get out of the way in a hurry,” Deke remarked.
“Keep your eyes open,” the lieutenant said.
“What the hell is that?” Philly demanded, pointing to something cutting a slithering path through the water.
“Snake,” Deke said. “Big fella too.”
Philly pointed his rifle, as if intending to shoot the snake.
“Knock it off, Philly!” Steele shouted. “We’re out here in the middle of a big shooting gallery. Let’s not call any more attention to ourselves than we need to, or we’ll sure as hell have bigger problems than snakes.”
“I think what Honcho means is that snakes don’t shoot machine guns.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Philly said, nervously watching the surrounding water. Now and then they spotted smaller snakes weaving among the rice shoots. Danilo gave them a wide berth, muttering something that sounded like a curse. This was not reassuring, considering that they had seen their Filipino guide face down everything from giant spiders to Japanese warriors without so much as batting an eye.
“Those appear to be poisonous,” Yoshio pointed out.
“Good to know,” Philly replied through gritted teeth.
Deke mostly kept his eyes on their surroundings. He shared the school of thought that machine guns were a whole lot worse than the local reptiles. He kept both hands on his rifle, just in case. Unfortunately, a Nambu machine gun could reach out from quite a distance, being an effective long-range weapon.
At this point, they began to leave the American lines behind and were moving into Japanese territory. Their mission, in part, was to determine where the Japanese were and the best path to bisect Highway 2.
They walked for another half hour, covering precious little ground and fully exposed all the while.
“This isn’t going to work,” Lieutenant Steele announced, pausing to take off his helmet and wipe his dripping brow. “The Japanese are up ahead somewhere, and they’ll see a group of us coming from a mile off. You boys stay here and I’ll go ahead. One person has a better chance of getting through unseen.”
Deke spoke up. It didn’t seem right that the lieutenant was proposing to strike out on his own toward enemy territory. “Hold on, Honcho. Why not let me go?”
“You know me, Deke. I wouldn’t ask someone to do something that I wasn’t willing to do myself.”
“Deke is right, Honcho. For once. If the Japanese pick him off, that’s better than losing an officer,” Philly said.
“I wasn’t planning on debating it,” Steele said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty. The lieutenant could be as stubborn as any of them, but even he had to realize that it was true that it would be far worse for the patrol, even their small one, to lose their leadership.
“Aw, Honcho, you know us better than that. We’re just saying we can’t afford to lose you.”
Finally, Steele cracked a grin. “And we can afford to lose Deke.”
Deke said, “You ain’t gonna lose me, you dumb sons of bitches. Honcho excepted, him being an officer and all. Now somebody come over here and take my shit. The only thing I want to drag through these paddies is my rifle and my ass.”
Deke got Philly to carry his haversack, since he might as well be useful for something. In addition to his rifle, Deke hung on to his canteen and his bowie knife. A rifle might get clogged with mud, but with a sharp knife, a man was never defenseless.
Danilo stepped forward as if to go with him, but Deke waved him back. “I appreciate it, but if I get killed, then somebody has to make sure the rest of these boys get their sorry asses back to Ormoc.”
It was always an open question as to how much English Danilo understood, but he gave Deke a nod.
“Yeah, yeah,” Philly said. “I think the rest of us can find a whole goddamn town if we need to. Anyhow, get back here as soon as you can, all right?”