Hunter Sniper

Allied forces — the Australian navy had also played a role — had not gone unscathed, but had also lost ships and as many as two thousand sailors and aircrew. If things had gone differently in the Battle off Samar, the outcome might have been far, far worse for the efforts to take back the Philippines.

Because the general wanted more than reports, but an actual eyewitness account, he asked Oatmire a few additional questions, then signaled that the meeting was coming to a close.

“Any other thoughts you want to share, Captain?”

Oatmire considered, then said, “Yes, sir. I just want to say, thank God for the United States Navy!”

General MacArthur frowned. It was not exactly what he wanted to hear or expected, but in this case, even the general seemed ready to admit that Oatmire had a point.

“You might just be right about that, son. Now, dismissed!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Deke and the rest of the company crept cautiously toward the coast, expecting at any moment to meet more Japanese resistance. They were battered and bruised, and more fighting was the last thing any of them wanted.

Even the fight at the coconut grove had cost them dearly. Lieutenant Gurley had been a good man, and so had Private Simmons. They had now joined the long list of soldiers who would not be coming home from the Pacific. The consensus was that Gurley had been a good man, but too eager. Fighting the Japanese wasn’t like in the comic books. It was good to keep that in mind if you wanted to stay alive.

“Damn shame about Lieutenant Gurley,” Philly remarked. He had drifted back to join Deke and Yoshio in the middle of the company moving along the jungle trail, content to let Danilo take point.

“He ought to have known better than to charge right at the Japanese,” said Deke. “There’s nothin’ worse than a dumb officer.”

“You know what, Corn Pone? The thing about you that we can always count on is that you don’t like anybody.” Philly’s tone suggested that he’d held the dead lieutenant in somewhat higher regard. “I do believe that you are the angriest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

“I might be angry, but at least I’m not a dead son of a bitch. Not yet, anyway. Always remember that the Japanese can shoot just as straight as we can. An officer like Gurley can get every last one of his men killed. We’re lucky that Captain Merrick has got more sense than that.”

“If you say so.”

Deke had no real love for most officers. In Deke’s book, many officers were just part of the system that kept a good man down. They ranked right up there with bankers and factory owners. There were exceptions to the rule, he thought, like Captain Merrick and Lieutenant Steele, men who knew their business. Another exception might even be MacArthur himself, who seemed to know how to go about winning the war.

“I think that Lieutenant Gurley was frustrated by the enemy,” Yoshio said. “He wanted them to come out and fight. It was his own version of a banzai charge.”

“Well, he’s dead now, and so is Simmons,” Deke pointed out. He had meant to just point out the facts but was surprised to hear the note of anger in his own voice.

The fight at the coconut grave had been an unpleasant surprise. It had shaped up to be their last combat action before leaving the jungle behind. If only they could have avoided it, then several more of the company’s men would have survived.

It was small consolation that they had killed all the Japanese who had ambushed them. In fact, it was quite a lopsided victory. But it would have been better if the fight hadn’t taken place at all. You certainly couldn’t blame Danilo for the ambush. In fact, it was his alert eyes and ears that had kept the Japanese ambush from being far worse.

Deke could understand what Yoshio meant about the lieutenant charging the Japanese position out of anger and frustration. Some of the others had done the same thing. But rage didn’t make you bulletproof. As it turned out, those men had died all the same. It was only the stealthy flanking movement that had snuffed out the Japanese attack, not the foolhardy charge by Lieutenant Gurley and the others.

And why had they died? To capture a little grove of overgrown coconut trees? No — that was the wrong way to look at it, Deke decided. They had died fighting the Japanese, pure and simple. The place and the circumstances didn’t matter. This was a war that was being won by increments.

Meanwhile, something that Philly had said was still gnawing at him.

“Hey, Yoshio,” Deke said. “Do you think I’m angry all the time?”

“Well, not all of the time,” Yoshio said. “Just most of the time.”

Deke chewed that over in his mind. Back home, there had been a lot of people he was angry at, but mostly he had been angry at himself. Here in the Pacific, he could unleash that anger on somebody else — the Japanese.

And that was just fine by him.

* * *