Hunter Sniper

Given this tableau of misery, the people of Ormoc had cheered when news arrived of the US landing on the other side of the island. But now the war had arrived within the city itself, with all its destructive force. There would be a price to pay for liberation.

The sun was still high in the sky when the first US troops crept cautiously down the empty streets. The Japanese held their fire, letting the enemy get well within firing range.

Their fingers on their triggers, they waited.

Deke, Philly, Yoshio, and Danilo were among the first of those soldiers entering the city. Right behind them came Honcho and a handful of the rear-echelon troops who had been pressed into service, mixed with veterans from Captain Merrick’s company.

The more inexperienced men were doing their best to follow Honcho’s orders and imitate the combat men who scurried from one building to another, covering one another in the process.

“It’s awfully damn quiet,” Philly whispered to no one in particular. “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head,” Deke said. “I reckon it’s about to get real noisy around here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Americans advanced into the city, moving house by house, street by street. Still, the Japanese did not open fire. The deserted streets seemed to be holding their breath.

Deke had to admit that Philly was right about one thing. The advance into Ormoc took place in an almost eerie quiet, punctuated only by the crackle and pop of flames. Several fires burned in town as the result of the heavy artillery bombardment that had preceded the advance.

Following the usual strategy, the bombardment had been intended to soften up the Japanese defenses. The hope was that any civilians who remained in the port city had found shelter.

While it was true that most civilians had fled, it was always the poorest, the youngest, and the oldest who got left behind. The shacks built of concrete block, scrap wood, and corrugated metal looked even more flimsy in the face of advancing troops and armor. Where artillery shells had rained down, the houses had been reduced to piles of rubble.

Poor bastards, Deke thought. The people here clearly didn’t have much.

The destruction might have been even worse except for the fact that the bombardment effort had relied on the division’s own artillery and whatever aircraft could be sent to aid the fight.

The navy guns that usually handled the job — and surely would have absolutely leveled the town — remained far out to sea to avoid the Japanese planes that still managed to launch attacks from small airfields on Leyte.

Perhaps the Japanese planes no longer appeared in the numbers that they had, but the navy had a healthy fear of the new kamikaze strategy. Turning planes into bombs was a weapon that was hard to understand and difficult to defend against, so it was best to remain farther out to sea for now.

Despite the bombardment, the division’s big guns wouldn’t be enough on their own. Sacking Ormoc was a job that would have to be done on foot, street by street, house by house. It would be similar to the fight they had experienced in Palo on the other side of Leyte, but that had been more of a running battle through the streets.

At Palo, the Japanese had even pushed a wall of refugees ahead of them, using the Filipinos as human shields. Here the enemy had dug in and prepared for them. Thankfully, no civilians remained in sight, so it was unlikely that the events of Palo would be repeated.

Having entered the town, Deke put one foot in front of the other, his eyes locked on the rooftops and windows of the taller buildings, basically scanning any position that enemy snipers might be using as a vantage point.

The trap had been set. Japanese forces had been expecting them for some time. The fighting promised to be fierce.

Deke was moving along the edge of the street, keeping to the shadows cast by trees and front porches. He found himself thinking wistfully of the jungle, which offered much better cover. Besides, Deke always felt more at home in the forest or fields, rather than making his way up a street, feeling too exposed.

He moved like a prowling cat, keeping to a pace that was unlikely to draw much attention to himself. His fever seemed to have abated for now, for which he was grateful. He needed to be sharp.

Behind him came the bulk of the soldiers, who ran between buildings in small squads, crossing the street at a scramble while the men awaiting their turn to cross were prepared with covering fire that wasn’t needed yet.

Deke figured that the rest of the advancing forces could worry about the machine-gun emplacements inside the street-corner bunkers. He could see some of those up ahead, or what he guessed were machine-gun emplacements. It was hard to know for certain because they remained quiet, the Japanese waiting for the GIs to get closer.

Deke would worry about enemy snipers.