Hunter Sniper

Rumors were already trickling in about terrible atrocities that the Japanese were committing in that city, now that they knew the end was near. It seemed that across the Philippines, the enemy occupiers were taking out their anger on the local population for being disloyal and ungrateful.

This was a far cry from what had happened on Guadalcanal and Saipan, where the population had been brainwashed into thinking that the Americans were intent on rape, murder, and torture. There were even mass suicides in those places. In the Philippines, US flags that had been hidden away on pain of death if they were found now flew from many houses and businesses.

The brutal actions being taken by the Japanese surpassed any sort of military strategic need. Instead, all across the Philippines, as defeat became an increasingly foregone conclusion, they seemed intent on leaving nothing but destruction and punishment in their wake.

* * *

Despite the fact that Ormoc was now firmly in US hands, the Japanese weren’t quite ready to wave the white flag of surrender. From time to time, there was the crack of a rifle as a hidden Japanese soldier opened fire. It was hard to say whether the lone soldier had managed to remain hidden as US troops swept the city, or if he had slunk back in as an infiltrator. The sniper attacks were more of a thorn in the side of US troops than a serious threat, but they also took a psychological toll. Having survived the battle, the last thing a soldier wanted to do was fall victim to a sniper.

Just past noon on the day after General Bruce had sent his message announcing the capture of Ormoc, a Japanese sniper had gone to work near the harbor. Every few minutes he fired from the upper floors of a ruined building. Several soldiers had been hit.

The scout-snipers of Patrol Easy — and Deke in particular — had been called into action. It was what they did best, and as far as Deke was concerned, it beat the hell out of having to unload supplies.

“Deke, go get that son of a bitch,” Honcho ordered. “Philly, see if you can help him.”

“No rest for the weary,” Philly complained, picking up his rifle with all the enthusiasm of a man reaching for a shovel, and following Deke.

“Quit your griping,” Honcho said. “Keep it up and you’ll find yourself driving a truck instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once they were out of earshot of the lieutenant, however, Philly did continue to gripe. “I’ve got to say, Honcho has been in an ugly mood since we landed on the beach. He’s never in what you might describe as a good mood, but this really takes the cake.”

“I reckon he’s got a lot on his mind,” Deke said. “Being an officer ain’t no picnic.”

“He was an officer before we got to Ormoc. He sure as hell didn’t act this way back on Guam.”

“Yeah, but back then he only had your sorry ass to boss around. Now he’s got a lot more men to worry about. He’s second in command of the company.”

“What’s left of it, anyway,” Philly said. “We really got chewed up and spit out capturing this place.”

Another shot rang out, causing a truck to veer sharply, a bullet hole leaving a spiderweb pattern of cracks on the windshield. Given the scarcity of trucks, they could scarcely afford to lose any.

“Come on,” Deke said. “The war will be over by the time you get a move on.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Deke felt good — better than he had in days, at any rate. He’d had another dose of Danilo’s tea that morning. He was sure that the stuff could take the rust off nails and maybe even remove paint, but it seemed to keep the fever at bay. It reminded him of some of the folk remedies back home, like sumac tea to cure fever.

There were some who rolled their eyes at folksy medicine, but Deke had seen it work wonders. It sure seemed to be working for him better than any pills that modern medicine provided.

“How are you feeling, anyhow?” Philly asked. “You look all right.”

“I’ve been worse,” Deke said.

Philly nodded. “Nobody out here feels like a million bucks, that’s for damn sure.”

They set out toward the piles of rubble that lined the road on the waterside. Bricks, rubble, and concrete blocks were rowed up as if they had been put there by a giant plow. Boards poked out of the piles. They approached from the shaded side to remain out of the sniper’s line of sight.

To Deke’s mind, the rubble created a perfect sniper’s nest, giving him a full view up and down the street. He crawled down into a hole and tugged a rusty section of corrugated tin over them. They had started out in the shade, but the shade did not last for long. They were now in the full sun, which beat down on the tin, heating it up like a stove lid.

Though they were sheltered from the direct sun, they started to sweat profusely in the tropical heat and humidity. What little sea breeze there was off the gulf didn’t reach down between the piles of rubble.

Deke had no need of his hat because they were covered by the sheet of corrugated metal, so he took the hat off and tied a strip of cloth across his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes.