Hunter Sniper

“Maybe we did too good of a job, considering that we even sank that Japanese barge,” Philly grumbled. “We killed the hell out of those Japanese, that’s for sure. Not a one of them made it to shore.”

“Not a one of them,” Yoshio repeated hollowly. He didn’t have to elaborate on the fact that none of the Japanese had even been allowed to shore.

“It ain’t like they were gonna surrender,” Deke pointed out in an effort to make Yoshio feel better, but it didn’t seem to do much good.

While the sinking of the enemy barge had buoyed most of their spirits because it had been such a lopsided victory, it may have come as no surprise that Yoshio did not seem to share in that jubilation. Enemy or not, the men they had slaughtered in the harbor — there was no other term for it — were Japanese, and Yoshio must have surely been affected by that. He knew better than to admit it out loud and kept his thoughts to himself.

Merrick’s company found itself moving inland. Aside from the unlucky troop transport, they had yet to see any Japanese troops even with the proximity to Ormoc. They approached a small village called Ipil, about halfway between the harbor and the city of Ormoc itself.

Once again Patrol Easy had taken point, this time with Danilo in the lead. Right behind Danilo were Egan and Thor, in hopes that the dog would smell the enemy if Danilo didn’t spot them first. The rest of the soldiers in the company seemed reassured by the sight of the dog, but Deke preferred to put his faith in Danilo.

Deke didn’t mind seeing Danilo leading the company, considering that he still didn’t feel completely himself. His fever had mostly abated, but he still felt too weak to be effective. He longed to close his eyes and sleep for a day or two, but he knew that he wasn’t going to be that lucky. Like he’d been told back on the beach, every man was needed in this fight for Ormoc.

“Everyone says that the Japanese are dug in tight,” Rodeo said. “Do you think it’s true?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Philly pointed out.

The company had some help as it moved out in the form of the “Long Toms” from the 226th Field Artillery. The 155-millimeter field guns helped to pave the way ahead of the company’s advance. The shells screeched overhead, then landed in the distance with a dull thud that still managed to shake the ground even at this distance. Plumes of black smoke and dust rose into the air.

“I just hope they have good aim,” Philly said. “I sure don’t want one of those dropping on my head.”

“It would give you quite a headache, all right,” Deke agreed. The shelling also made him anxious, but not for the same reason as Philly. He preferred to be able to hear what lay ahead of them, and listening for any sign of the enemy, from the silence of the jungle birds to a shouted order in Japanese, was helpful. As things stood, only the roar of the shells coming in and exploding filled his ears. In his experience, the Japanese were usually so dug in that shelling never did much good anyhow.

The village was too small to be considered a suburb of Ormoc, little more than a collection of huts that appeared peaceful enough.

Yet something wasn’t quite right. There was an air of desertion about the place. No smoke rose from any cooking fires. No people were visible. The animal pens made from tree branches and scraps of wire stood empty. Not so much as a chicken scratched the dirt. Deke couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but some instinct made him tense up and ready his weapon.

Danilo must have sensed it too. Up ahead, the Filipino slowed his pace, taking it all in. It was hard to say whether the settlement felt serene — or spooky.

Any thoughts that Ipil was a half-forgotten village evaporated when the Japanese opened fire as the company came in view of the dwellings.

“Take cover!” Merrick shouted as soldiers scrambled off the road.

The village provided good cover for the enemy, who had built dugouts under the huts or were taking advantage of the root cellars beneath. They were practically invisible as they opened fire. The tallest building seemed to be a kind of barn, almost like a hayloft, and there was a Japanese up there with a submachine gun, doing a good job of spraying the road with metal.

Caught in the open, several soldiers went down in the initial burst of fire. Deke saw a soldier throw out his arms in what might have been a gesture of welcome if it hadn’t been for the gaping bullet holes coming out his back. The man dropped his rifle, rocked back on his heels, and fell into the road, blood running from his body. Poor bastard never knew what hit him, Deke thought.

Deke scrambled behind a log that had been knocked down during the shelling. He lay on his belly in the dirt, staying as flat as possible, head down as bullets chipped chunks off the log. Philly and Yoshio slid in beside him. The rest of Patrol Easy had scattered, finding cover wherever they could. Stray bullets kicked up dirt and sand all around them.

“Son of a bitch!” Philly shouted.