Pacific Sniper

“Got him! That’s some fine shooting, son,” Lieutenant Steele exclaimed, clapping Deke on the shoulder. Deke was a little embarrassed to feel himself swell with pride at the lieutenant’s praise. The lieutenant’s approval felt better than getting a medal pinned to his chest. “If those other Japs are smart, they got out of there. There weren’t that many, anyhow. We’ll keep following the trail. You see any other Nips, you take them out.”

“You got it, Honcho.”

Lieutenant Steele signaled to the rest of the squad, who began following the trail down into the ravine. This time, it was Tony Cruz and the lieutenant who led the way. The path became steep and slippery, forcing them to sling their weapons to leave their hands free; essentially, they would now be climbing down the ravine. Egan was having to half carry Whoa Nelly down the slope.

“This isn’t a trail,” Philly complained, after he had slipped and slid several feet, leaving the seat of his trousers slick with mud. “It’s a toboggan ride.”

“Wait here,” Steele said, moving ahead of the others. “I don’t know for sure that we got all of those Japs.”

“You sure about that, Honcho? Maybe I ought to go first.”

“No, you’d better watch our backs, Deke,” the lieutenant said, then moved on. “Besides, you already nailed those couple of snipers. We can’t let you fight the whole war by yourself.”

Steele kept going down the steep ravine, the Chamorro guide ahead of him. Tony’s sandaled feet moved surely along the path, although he was forced to dig the edges of his sandals into the mud to keep from sliding down the slick patches. The lieutenant was having a much harder time in his heavy combat boots.

It came as no surprise when the lieutenant lost his balance and slid the rest of the way down to the bottom of the ravine, tumbling once or twice in the process. His shotgun went flying. Whoa Nelly began barking frantically, but it was hard to say if the lieutenant’s fall had set her off, or the scent of Japs.

“Easy, girl,” Egan said, looking around nervously.

“See what I mean?” Philly said. “Toboggan ride.”

“Honcho, you OK?”

“Come on down,” Steele said, giving them a wave to show he was all right. He had managed to knock over Tony Cruz on the way, leveling him like a bowling ball hitting a bowling pin. The Chamorro managed to pick his way down the rest of the steep grade, looking indignant.

Steele retrieved his shotgun, then walked over to where the bodies of the Jap snipers had fallen out of the trees like bloody, overripe fruit. He poked at one with the muzzle of the shotgun, then reached down to pick up the Arisaka rifle with the telescopic sight.

The lieutenant was studying the rifle with interest when a shot rang out, and Steele went down.

“Honcho!” Philly shouted in alarm, but the lieutenant didn’t move.

Deke could only stare at the lieutenant’s still body, but not for long. They had to move.

Below them on the slope, Tony Cruz scrambled for cover. A shot pecked at rocks near his feet, but he managed to get down the slope and into cover.

The rest of the squad wasn’t as lucky. They were caught out in the open and exposed on the path.

“Spread out!” shouted Deke, who was highest up on the ravine.

Ingram tried to get into the bushes growing alongside the path for whatever cover they offered. Philly opted to sit on his backside and slide all the way down the slick, muddy slope. His method was fast enough, but the drawback was that his tailbone hit every rock and root on the way, leaving him cursing and howling.

Still on the path, Deke raised his rifle and searched frantically for a target, but the sniper was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t even sure where to look. Then a flurry of shots came from the brush in the bottom of the ravine. Was that where the sniper had been hidden?

He couldn’t think of what to do except to get down there and help the others. Was Lieutenant Steele still alive? Only one way to find out. He started down the steep path.

He came even with Ingram, who was clinging to a bush, struggling to keep his balance as he swung his rifle around. Like Deke, he was trying to figure out where the shot that had hit Lieutenant Steele had come from.

Ingram started to say, “Hey, I think—”

His head jerked back and he stared at Deke, startled. Deke saw the blood and realized that Ingram had been shot through the throat.

Ingram sat down in the bushes. He was still alive but unable to speak.

He made a sound like gwaak, gwaak as air wheezed in and out through the gaping hole.

Deke didn’t have anything to press against the wound other than his small gauze pack. Ingram needed bandages, and quick, if they were going to stop the bleeding. He glanced down the slope. Egan was carrying most of their medical supplies—the closest thing that Patrol Easy had to a medic. Right now, Egan was struggling to get himself and the dog to the bottom of the ravine.

“I’ll be right back,” Deke said. “Hang in there.”

Ingram nodded silently, blood staining his chest. It didn’t look good. Deke would have to hurry.