Pacific Sniper

Meanwhile, the sniper on the slope was using his dead comrade’s body for cover most effectively. Although it was just what he would have done had their roles been reversed, it now meant that Okubo and his team were essentially pinned down. If any of them moved, the sniper would pick them off. Perhaps the enemy sniper was more than a worthy adversary—he was dangerous.

As a sniper, Okubo was patient—to a point. But he recognized an impasse when he saw one. He needed something to break loose. What he had to do was to get the American sniper to reveal himself.

He turned to a soldier, lying prone in the grass to Okubo’s left. “Private, why are you hiding like that? Stand up and fire at that soldier.”

“Sir?”

“Do as I say!”

The soldier looked reluctant. He hesitated, then seemed to gather himself. With a shout, he jumped up and fired wildly at the enemy on the slope.

Almost instantly, he collapsed back into the grass and did not stir, dead from a single shot.

“That was too quick,” Okubo muttered to himself. Having remained hidden in the grass himself, he had not spotted the enemy sniper’s muzzle blast. He would have to use another soldier as a decoy. He looked over to his right, where Kimura lay. He hesitated, only because the private had been a useful kosho.

“Private Kimura! It is your turn now. Rise up from the grass and shoot that American!”

“Sir?”

“Do not disappoint me, Kimura. Remember your duty to the Emperor.”

The young soldier looked at him with pleading eyes, but Okubo stared back pitilessly. He did not have time for this. He needed the enemy sniper to reveal himself before the rest of that American patrol climbed out of the ravine.

Reluctantly, the young soldier appeared to make up his mind. The hands holding his rifle trembled as he got to his knees.

Slowly, Kimura gathered his resolve. He knew that what he was doing was nothing short of suicide. Like Okubo, he had recognized that this was the same sniper that they had faced earlier. The American was a good shot—he wouldn’t miss. However, Kimura knew that he had no choice but to obey a direct order.

Meanwhile, Okubo kept his eye on the target.

That did not prevent him from saying impatiently, “Go on. What are you waiting for?”

Kimura stood. A split second later, he gave a cry of pain and collapsed back into the grass, writhing in agony.

Okubo ignored him. The ruse had worked. This time, he had spotted a flicker of movement.

He fired.

Deke spotted a Japanese rise from the grass, showing himself plainly. It was not the samurai-looking guy this time, but he shouted what might have been a battle cry. Deke had been waiting for a target and was ready for him. He fired and was sure that he had nailed the Jap right in the head.

Another one down. How many were left?

Incredibly, another Jap showed himself.

Damn, but that one popped up like a gopher. Deke was so startled that he barely aimed, just put the sights on the enemy soldier and pulled the trigger. He got lucky. The Jap fell back into the grass.

Immediately, a bullet came in and grazed his cheek, producing a burning sensation as if someone had just rubbed his scarred face with a hot coal. Too close for comfort. Deke hunkered even tighter against the big man’s corpse.

More shots thudded into Ingram’s body. The sound was more than a little sickening. Unseen in the grass, the Japs were now targeting him. He fired blindly, hoping that it would at least make them keep their heads down. It didn’t, and the firing continued. He just hoped that meant the squad below was safely out of their line of fire.

He didn’t have a prayer of hitting enemy soldiers that he couldn’t see. On the other hand, the Japs knew exactly where he was. He touched his burning cheek, a reminder that it was only a matter of time before the Japs got a lucky shot.

Staying put was not an option.

The thing that Deke was learning about war was that it broke down into a series of life-and-death decisions. Your actions would either get you killed within the next few seconds, or they might save your bacon so that you lived to a ripe old age. The only thing that you couldn’t do was sit still and let somebody else make your decision for you—not when their decision was to kill you.

“Now or never,” Deke muttered to himself.

He took just one second in his mind to say goodbye to Sadie and his ma. He pictured the spring green of the mountains back home one last time, thinking that it might be the last thought he had, and then he sprang up from behind Ingram’s bullet-riddled body and ran down the ravine.