Pacific Sniper

They heard the chatter of machine-gun fire, the snap of individual rifle shots, and the thump of mortar grenades—and possibly even a few tanks. They had seen the burning wreckage of a couple of the small Japanese tanks near the beach. They were no match for the Shermans that had been brought ashore. It boggled Deke’s mind just a little to think that tanks had been brought all the way out here to an island in the middle of the ocean, thousands of miles from the factories where they had been made.

When they went up against an American tank, the Japanese tanks were quickly wiped out. Their guns and thin armor plating were no match against the bigger Shermans—in Europe, it had been rumored that the Americans found themselves in the same situation against the German panzers.

If they were outmatched by the Shermans, then against a squad or platoon of infantry, the Japanese tanks still managed to have a deadly effect.

The burned hulks of the enemy tanks on the shore and at the edges of the jungle were a welcome sight. It meant one less son of a bitch to worry about in the days to come.

Chapter Seven

As night came on, the area immediately to their front fell into an uneasy quiet. But not for long. Despite the distant gunfire, the jungle began waking up for the night. They heard a concert of strange, whining insects, shrieking night birds, and even a few inhuman cries that reminded Deke of wild bobcats that he had heard in the hills back home. Even without the threat of the Japanese, the jungle was alien and terrifying.

Beside him, Philly the city boy looked unsettled, pointing his rifle in one direction and then another.

Something screeched long and loud.

“What the hell was that?” he asked.

“A tiger, maybe,” Deke said, pulling his leg.

“A tiger? You think so? What the hell is this place?”

One of the men in a nearby foxhole set Philly straight. “It’s monkeys, you idiot. The jungle is full of them.”

Philly snorted. “Monkeys, huh? I knew that. That freakin’ Deacon was yanking my chain. Anyhow, just so long as it’s not Japs.”

“You won’t hear the Japs,” Deke said. “Not until the last minute, anyhow.”

They settled down to wait. They were supposed to be an anti-sniper patrol. But at the moment there didn’t seem to be any enemy snipers to worry about. It didn’t make the sounds from the jungle any less unsettling.

Instead, they focused on the growing blackness around them, staring into the jungle and wondering what might be next. They could still hear plenty of shooting to their right and left. Unless those troops were shooting at random, then there had to be something else out there.

Those men who could do so managed to grab some sleep, slumping down into the trenches and getting some rest. Although the conditions weren’t ideal, sleep wasn’t hard to come by. After all, most of them had been awake since long before dawn, if not most of the night before. Sleeping in the landing craft hadn’t exactly been inviting.

Deke was as tired as anyone, but he kept his eyes open. He had no intention of going to sleep just yet.

“Go on and get some shut-eye,” he said quietly to Philly. “I’ll keep watch.”

“All right, then. I appreciate it.”

Deke stared into the humid night. The air smelled damp and fetid, somehow mixing the lush scent of greenery with decay, like the stagnant air of an orchid hothouse that he had visited in Hawaii. It didn’t take much imagination to think of the Japanese soldiers who might be creeping up on them in the dark. For all he knew, there might be a whole division out there, holding its breath, waiting to attack.

He glanced down at his Timex watch—the most valuable item that Deke had ever owned that wasn’t a firearm, the luminous dots emitting the faintest light—and saw that it was approaching midnight. So far there hadn’t been any sign of the enemy.

All of a sudden, the chatter of creatures in the nighttime jungle fell silent. Something had disturbed them. He stared harder into the hushed darkness, looking for any sign of movement.

Considering that Deke had been a hunter since he was old enough to carry a rifle into the woods, he knew that when the forest went quiet, it meant that something was there that didn’t belong or that was unwelcome. Usually, that meant something human—or a predator. He supposed that the same rules applied in the jungle.

He leaned out of the foxhole, rifle at the ready, straining his eyes and ears, hoping to see or hear something.

To his right, someone opened fire, causing Deke to jump.

Several other men started shooting. The night lit up with muzzle flashes and even tracer fire. The firing went on for at least a minute. Nobody shot back at them.

Finally, they could hear Lieutenant Steele shouting to make himself heard. A nearby lieutenant was also ordering his men to stop shooting, although his voice carried less authority.

“Cease fire! Cease fire, goddamn it!” Steele shouted. “What the hell was everybody shooting at? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I thought I heard something, sir.” The soldier sounded sheepish.