Hunter Sniper

David Healey Hunter Sniper A World War II Thriller

“The world is not pretty. It's only the hard work of some people that makes it so.”

JAMES A. MICHENER, TALES OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC

CHAPTER ONE

The tropical night sky was clear, lit by a waxing moon. A bat swooped across the face of the glowing orb, then another, hunters in the dark.

There was just enough light to give shape and form to individual trees and clumps of spiky kunai grass, but in a way, only half seeing something was worse. The longer you stared at a dark clump of shrub, the more it started to look like a sneaking Japanese soldier.

Listening to the night noises, Deacon Cole gripped his rifle and stared into the darkness. He didn’t grip the rifle out of fear, but out of eagerness. The rifle felt like a living thing in his hands, and some part of him ached to shoot something. He wanted to feel the familiar jolt against his shoulder, the acrid whiff of gunpowder that was the best smell in the world this side of bacon frying. He wanted to feel the sheer power of that rifle and hear the whunk of a bullet hitting home.

Given that the jungle was crawling with the enemy, he reckoned that he’d have his chance soon enough.

He took his hand off the rifle just long enough to touch the bowie knife at his belt, reassuring himself that it was there and sharp as ever.

If the Japanese showed up, he’d be ready for them.

As if the shapes in the darkness weren’t enough of a test of the imagination, it didn’t help anyone’s nerves that the jungle was never silent. Deke reckoned that if the night birds and insects went quiet, you might even hear the plants growing.

A few creatures and night birds stirred in the moonlight, their rustling through the underbrush and the sharp cries of hunters and prey setting the soldiers’ nerves on edge.

Screech! Shreek! Aiieee!

These were primal sounds, echoing the jungle’s cycle of savagery and death, a reminder of what awaited them all in this war.

The question was, What were the soldiers tonight? Hunters or prey?

Deke and the other soldiers were supposed to be the hunters, battle-hardened tough guys, but it was easy enough to sympathize with the prey when they heard the strangled, desperate cries of a dying creature. In this war, Deke reckoned that everybody felt like prey at one time or another.

“I can’t tell if it’s the Japanese sneaking up on us or just some damn bird making a racket,” whispered Philly, off to Deke’s right. The former city boy’s voice was laced with exhaustion and nerves, sounding cracked, hoarse, and dry.

“I hope it is the damn Japanese,” Deke replied, feeling wide awake and alert, his gray-blue eyes glinting in the moonlight as he scanned the darkness. There was no fear in his gaze, but something feral and predatory that searched the jungle with the anticipation of a hunter hoping for his next kill. “I just wish they’d hurry up and get it over with if they’re gonna attack.”

“For Pete’s sake, Deke,” Philly grumbled, a note of disgust in his voice. “Don’t you ever get tired of this damn war?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” he said. “Just keep an eye out for the Japs.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t it be a shame if there weren’t any out there? We might get some sleep for a change.”

Deke didn’t answer, only half listening to Philly. He stared intently through the scope, hoping for any glimpse of movement.

The strange noises made the soldiers uneasy, but it was just possible that their fears were unfounded. Philly had hinted at that possibility. After all, they were now near a section of Leyte Island in the Philippines that was supposed to be more or less secure.

For the last several days, they had forged their way across the interior of Leyte, fighting Japanese patrols whenever they encountered them. Their company had followed a narrow path through the hills and dense jungle. Their purpose had been to reconnoiter the jungle regions as much as it had been to harass the enemy.

Now they were approaching the coastal area of the island’s western shore, near the city of Ormoc, where they hoped to be reunited with the rest of the division. Their mission now was to guard a small airfield and fuel depot that they had stumbled across.

The Japanese had a much larger presence at Ormoc than on the coast itself. They held the port city there and possessed a well-developed airfield, from which they continued to launch raids on the American fleet. However, the Japanese also had small airfields dotting the island, such as the one that Deke’s company now guarded.