Around them, the forest seemed to be holding its breath. Trees of varying heights fenced them in, some soaring skyward and others groping up through the shaded canopy, desperate for a bit of sunlight. Slender vines curled among broad leaves. A few droplets of water fell, making a patter on the broad brim of his bush hat. He welcomed the cover that the jungle provided, but at the same time, there was always something sinister about it, as if old spirits dwelled among the shadows. Back home he had encountered mountain forests that felt the same way.
There were also threats that were all too real. He watched a spider the size of his hand groping its way along a branch. An insect nibbled at the exposed back of his neck, but Deke ignored it, all his attention focused on the space where he expected the first enemy soldiers to appear.
The enemy did not disappoint. A couple of soldiers hurried along the trail, hot on the heels of the Americans.
Deke nodded at Danilo. Both men stepped into the center of the path and fired, dropping two enemy soldiers. Then they melted back into the forest. There was a flurry of shots from the enemy that passed harmlessly overhead. Better yet, the Japanese had temporarily halted, evidently worried that they were walking into an ambush. If more enemy soldiers did want to show themselves and get shot, he and Danilo would be happy to oblige.
Deke thought it was a damn shame that they didn’t have more ammo. He and Danilo might have held off the enemy indefinitely, just two men against many. That was the power of a sniper.
However, a sniper needed bullets to be effective. Another Japanese soldier crept forward, and Deke dropped him. One bullet left. He would have to make it count. Danilo gave him a look of concern that needed no translation. Once they were out of ammo, then what?
Deke put the rifle to his shoulder and his eye to the telescopic sight, so that the kaleidoscope of the jungle patterns and colors sprang closer. Another Japanese soldier came into view, and it was almost too easy to put his crosshairs on the man’s throat and drop him. Beside him, Danilo also fired, worked the bolt, fired again.
They were officially out of ammo, and there were still too many Japanese hot on their trail. Deke wasn’t about to abandon his rifle, so he slung it across his back and drew his bowie knife. Beside him, Danilo did the same, the man’s long bolo knife making an evil hiss as it came free of the scabbard. Maybe they could get in among the trees and spring out at the enemy, taking them by surprise. With any luck, they might even be able to get ahold of a couple of Japanese rifles.
Fortunately it didn’t come to that. They heard a shout from up the trail, in the direction of their own men. For once it was not a warning shout but a whoop of what might have been joy. Then they heard several voices cheering. The enemy behind them was temporarily stalled thanks to the telling effect of their final shots, so he and Danilo hurried to catch up with the others.
They soon found the reason for the shouting and cheering. The tide was finally turning in their favor. Lieutenant Steele had returned, leading a contingent of US troops. One of them even carried a Browning Automatic Weapon, or BAR — just the thing to halt the advancing enemy in their tracks.
“We heard that you boys might need a little help,” one of the soldiers said. “You came to the right place.”
“There’s a mess of Japanese right on our heels,” Deke said. “They’re stirred up angry as hornets.”
“Not a problem,” another soldier said, hefting the BAR. “Let’s rack ’em and stack ’em, boys.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“You say these fellas on your trail were the camp guards?”
“Yeah.”
“Bastards,” the BAR gunner said, looking around at the rail-thin former prisoners dressed in their ragged uniforms. “We’ll take care of ’em, believe me.”
But as the troops moved into position, they were greeted with the deadly tap, tap, tap of the Nambu machine gun. Deke thought that the Japanese must have figured out from the cheering that they were no longer dealing with just the raiders and escaped prisoners. Consequently, they had set up their machine gun. Anyone coming down that jungle path in their direction would be mowed down.
A couple of medics were treating the worst cases among the ex-POWs. Lieutenant Steele was doling out rations but cautioning the men not to overeat. “Just take a few bites,” he warned them. “I don’t think your systems can handle much more than that.”
Hard as it was for the men not to gorge themselves, they did their best. Faraday moved among them, making sure that nobody ate too much.
“Holy cow, look at these guys,” one of the GIs said. “They look like scarecrows. The least that the Nips could have done is feed them. It’s not right.”
Deke didn’t disagree, but he was more interested in bullets than biscuits. “Give me some ammo,” he said.
The GI handed him a couple of clips. Then Deke ran in the direction of the firing, ready to join the fight.
However, he had a better idea than running headlong into deadly bursts from the Nambu. Instead, he slipped off the trail and moved through the forest parallel to it, hoping to surprise the machine gunner.
Unfortunately for Deke, some of the Japanese had the same idea. He came face-to-face with an enemy soldier who was doing just the same thing in the opposite direction. Startled, the enemy soldier made the fatal mistake of shouting something at Deke. Whether the enemy soldier was shouting a curse or a command to surrender, he’d never know, because Deke leveled his rifle and shot him. Then he pressed on through the trees.
From the sounds on the trail, he knew that he’d come even with the machine-gun position. He crept forward and fired at the figure crouching behind the gun, just visible through the trees. The firing abruptly stopped, giving the GIs on the trail the opening they needed. They advanced on the Japanese position, clearing the way with hand grenades and bursts from the BAR. Deke kept his head down while the BAR gunner sprayed the trail, the burst shredding leaves and twigs along with any enemy soldiers who had dared to show themselves.
Seconds later, the fight was over, and GIs swarmed the area around the machine gun. Deke stepped out of the woods and saw that one of the Japanese was still alive. To his surprise, he realized that it was Lieutenant Osako. He had not recognized him at first because the man’s eyeglasses had been knocked askew.
A GI leveled his weapon at the Japanese officer and was about to pull the trigger, but Deke pushed the muzzle aside. “Hold on,” he said. “We want this one alive.”
The lieutenant was wounded, down on his knees, looking up at the American soldiers. He clearly recognized Deke. “I remember you,” he said. “Deacon Cole.”
“I reckon the tables have turned, Osako. You’re our prisoner now.”
The Japanese officer shook his head. “No, I cannot surrender,” he said, sounding resigned. “Honor does not allow it.”
Instead of putting his hands up, Osako reached for the pistol in the holster on his belt. The GI to Deke’s left cursed and swung his weapon at Osako again, clearly intending to put an end to matters before the enemy officer could draw his pistol.
Deke was faster. In one smooth motion, he took a step forward, and at the same time, reversed his rifle and clubbed Osako on the side of the head. Knocked out, the Japanese slumped to the forest floor.
“Consider yourself captured,” Deke said.
The fight for Leyte was far from over, but it was becoming more apparent that the Japanese had lost the battle. At least, it was apparent to everyone but the Japanese. Starting with the initial landing near Palo and then the second landing to seize Ormoc, their forces had been pushed back from the coastal areas and forced to make a last stand in the hills and forests. As always, the Japanese simply refused to give up and surrender. Instead, they were going to make the Americans pay dearly with their lives.