Hunter Sniper

But Deke wasn’t so sure. The sound of the planes seemed to grow louder, almost hovering overhead. Finally, several large transport planes came into sight, silhouetted against the starlight. To their amazement, parachutes began to bloom in the sky, drifting down like pale jellyfish toward the tropical forest.

“I sure as hell hope those are our guys,” Philly said, sounding doubtful.

“Nobody told us about any parachute drop,” Deke replied.

That wasn’t unusual. In typical army fashion, the left hand often didn’t know what the right hand was doing. But the US already had thousands of men landed. Why would they need to drop paratroopers?

The answer came like a gut punch.

Before the paratroopers had even touched down, they had opened fire at targets on the ground. A grenade exploded nearby, dropped out of the sky. These were surely Japanese paratroopers, as incredible as that seemed.

“Take cover!” somebody shouted.

But Deke was already up and out of the foxhole, running toward where most of the parachutes seemed to be coming down.

“Dammit, where the hell are you going?” Philly swore again, then ran after him. Yoshio had no choice but to follow.

Out in the open, Deke took a knee and swung the rifle up. The scope of his Springfield sniper rifle gathered the light, and he quickly scanned the sky until he spotted the dark figure of a Japanese soldier in his jump harness, dangling beneath the parachute that had blossomed like a night-blooming flower.

Deke put his crosshairs on the silhouette and squeezed the trigger. The Japanese paratrooper hung limply. Deke’s bullet had found its mark. Quickly, he searched the sky for another target, acquired it, and ensured that another paratrooper was going to be dead on arrival.

However, the paratroopers were not defenseless. The winking muzzle flashes from above indicated that they were shooting back. A bullet snapped the air not far from Deke’s head, and he flinched, feeling his spine quiver. Hearing a bullet fired at you wasn’t something he’d ever get used to.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel!” Philly shouted happily. He wasn’t half the shot Deke was, but that didn’t stop him from firing again and again at the descending paratroopers. The night breeze must have shifted, because the parachutes were suddenly carried directly over Company C’s position.

“Shoot the bastards!” Captain Merrick shouted, as if his men needed any encouragement. “Shoot them down!”

Behind Deke, the rest of C Company had opened fire. Their semiautomatic M1 rifles had a much faster rate of fire than the Springfield sniper rifles. Even Private Frazier joined in with his Browning Automatic Rifle, stitching the sky with deadly bursts.

On the ground, the Americans opened fire with everything they had. A distant artillery piece had even been brought into play. The shells scattered the low-flying enemy transport planes but passed harmlessly through the descending parachutes. It must have been terrifying to be coming down in a parachute and hear the scream of an artillery round go past. The Japanese who made it to the ground would be plenty rattled.

Another grenade exploded and someone screamed. In the dark it was impossible to see the grenades coming down. There wasn’t any warning or any way to dodge what you couldn’t see. Still another grenade went off, so close that Deke was temporarily blinded. He blinked and blinked to clear his vision, glad that he hadn’t been hit by any shrapnel. The Japanese grenades were nothing to mess around with, being every bit as deadly as the American version.

The parachutes did not linger overhead. They soon disappeared beyond the treetops as the Japanese touched down. None landed in the field containing C Company, but they must have landed in another clearing. Deke could hear more shooting in the distance, but he couldn’t tell whether it was the Japanese or the US forces.

“Come on,” Deke shouted, and ran in the direction of where the greatest number of parachutes were raining down.

CHAPTER TWO

In the skies overhead, the artillery and antiaircraft guns had also done their work. The burst of flak resembled small black clouds in the moonlit sky. Having surprised the American forces on the ground, the Japanese planes had flown over nearly unscathed. Nearly.

As they watched, one of the Japanese planes was hit, began to trail smoke, and then burst into flame. Ponderously, the plane began to turn, parachutes spilling from it like seeds from a milkweed pod. The burning plane turned toward the distant sea and slowly disappeared from sight, leaving a trail of glowing sky in its wake. The spectacle was mesmerizing, but the action at hand forced the men to turn their gaze away.