Hunter Sniper

They glanced hopefully in the direction of the trucks, the captured Japanese vehicles painted with the lopsided US stars. There was a wide road ahead that would have meant a smooth ride to Ormoc. However, the trucks were being loaded with the wounded, pointed in the opposite direction, apparently for transport back to the beach. Maybe word had gone out that the navy was ferrying the wounded to the hospital ships once again.

They could see Doc Harmon directing the effort, checking each man as he did so. Some were being left behind on the ground, too badly wounded to transport. It would be only a matter of time before there was a grimy blanket covering their faces, to keep off the flies and the heat of the sun.

Philly sighed. “Looks like we’re walking.”

The men were ordered to assemble at the base of the ridge, in the road that had formed their line during the battle. The sun beat down, and men jostled to get under what little shade was offered by the roadside trees.

Once again they donned their battered helmets and loaded up on ammunition. More C rations were handed around and stuffed into haversacks. Some men slung their rifles, which were starting to feel heavy, but others preferred the reassurance of having a fully loaded M1 in their hands.

They were a motley crew, these fighting soldiers, their fatigues alternately filthy with mud or streaked with white from the soaking in the salt water when they had landed on Leyte. But this was no dress parade. This was setting out to finish the job of liberating Ormoc. These men meant business, and there was no doubt that they looked the part.

* * *

With the Japanese finally pushed off the ridge, the road toward Ormoc had been opened. Patrol Easy followed the road through the fields and forest, taking point ahead of the rest of the company.

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Philly whispered, nervously scanning the surrounding landscape for any sign of the enemy.

“I hate to tell you this, Philly, but it ain’t gonna be a shoe that drops. It’s gonna be a boot,” Deke said. “And that boot ain’t gonna drop. No, sir. It’s gonna kick us in the ass. Keep your eyes open.”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing? I wasn’t planning on taking a nap.”

Like his buddy, Deke moved cautiously, alert for any sign of an ambush. Despite the scene of destruction that they had left behind, they had not completely wiped out the Japanese back on the ridge, so the question was, Where had the enemy gone?

Ideally, Deke thought, the enemy would have jumped in the ocean and swum all the way back to Japan, but that was wishful thinking.

If the enemy wasn’t out here somewhere waiting for them, then they had fallen back to Ormoc and would be waiting for them there. Neither prospect was particularly appealing.

Their battered company wasn’t the only one moving into position. Most of the entire division was converging on Ormoc. In the distance, when there were breaks in the trees, revealing a vista of open rice paddies, Deke could see another unit following a path parallel to their own. Deke had waved at them, making sure that they had seen him, in order to avoid any surprises down the road.

There had been more than one situation where soldiers had been killed by friendly fire, which was easy enough in the confusion of the jungle landscape.

The day’s heat bore down, the air feeling heavier by the moment. Sweat slicked the men’s faces, rolled down the backs of their necks, soaked their uniforms. It was almost enough to make them wish for another beach to storm, just for the chance to cool off in the surf.

Like a pot of old stew simmering on the back of a hot stove, Deke had felt troublesome waves of the fever that had afflicted him earlier returning. At first he had tried to ignore it. Then he had stumbled now and again, starting to feel dizzy.

Danilo had given him a knowing, concerned look. The Filipino guide was more than aware of the ebb and flow of the various jungle fevers. They receded like the tide and then came racing back in.

“Are you all right?” Philly asked, after Deke stumbled for a second time.

“Just tired, is all.”

“If you say so. I can tell Doc Harmon about it. Maybe he’s got some pills to fix you right up.”

Deke might have argued that this was a bad idea, that the surgeon might put him in a truck with the other wounded and send him back to the beach, but he was feeling too tired to argue.

It was true that their numbers had been bolstered by the cooks, truck drivers, and mechanics who had not returned to their field kitchens and maintenance yards but had been set on the road to Ormoc. For the fight at Ormoc, where the Japanese planned to make a stand in the streets, the division was going to need every man it had to be carrying a rifle.