Savage Sniper

“I came across a good road we can use,” he said. “We can pick it up about a mile from here. Leads right to the highway — which is crawling with Japanese, by the way.”

“Headquarters said it might be,” Steele said. “That’s why they want the 307th to cut across the road and stop the enemy from using it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“It’s going to take more than us to win and hold that road. We’ll have to go back to division and lead another unit out here. Put your boots back on. We have some walking to do.”

They recrossed the territory they had covered the previous day. Although they were close to enemy lines, they didn’t worry as much about stealth. It was almost impossible not to cross the flooded rice fields without making at least some noise. Soon enough, the lights of Ormoc came back into sight. The countryside behind them had been pitch black. There wasn’t any electricity out here, just the starlight and hazy tropical moonlight.

They gave the password and crossed through American lines.

“I thought you guys were Japs,” the sentry said. “They told us there were some patrols out, but I didn’t believe it. There’s nothin’ out there but rice paddies and Nips.”

“Believe it,” Lieutenant Steele said.

The sentry looked them all up and down. “You’re muddy enough.” He wrinkled his nose. “You all kind of stink like those rice paddies too.”

“You don’t smell so good yourself, buddy,” Philly growled.

“Never mind that,” Steele said. He jerked his chin at a battered Jeep parked nearby. “We’re commandeering that thing.”

“Sir?”

“Son, we just walked through miles of mud. We have important information for the division, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to walk all the way back to HQ.”

“Yes, sir.” They could tell the sentry didn’t like it, but he couldn’t argue with a lieutenant. Besides that, the soldiers who had just waded in from patrol looked like a rough bunch.

“Get on, boys. Rodeo, you drive. We’re riding in style,” Steele said. The passengers on the sturdy Jeep were soon a jigsaw puzzle of arms, legs, and weaponry. The lieutenant looked around at his muddy, tangled patrol and laughed. “Just don’t get used to all the luxury.”

Nobody minded. They had just traversed miles and miles of desolate enemy territory. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but a ride in the Jeep sure beat walking. Despite Steele’s wisecrack, it really did seem like luxury at that moment. There was nothing in the world that made a man appreciate a ride so much as taking a load off his own two exhausted legs.

The engine cranked, and the Jeep sped off into the night, carrying the soggy GIs and their information on the backdoor route that would be used to hammer the Japanese the next day.

CHAPTER FOUR

It wasn’t all glory being a soldier. On this steamy morning, as the 306th Infantry Regiment slogged across the flooded rice paddies surrounding the newly captured port city of Ormoc, it was even less glorious than usual.

Thanks to Patrol Easy, the unit had its route toward Highway 2, a major supply road for the Japanese. The mission was to bisect the road, essentially creating a roadblock to cut off the enemy supply lines. Other units would attack the Japanese position separately. Once a section of the road was in American hands, the plan was to start rolling up it toward Palompon. To be sure, the Japanese wouldn’t like this plan and would fight them the whole way.

After the roadway moved north from the rice paddies, the territory became more rugged. The highway was lined with low hills and jungle-filled ravines. There were dozens of bridges to cross. The situation favored the Japanese defenders, who could ambush the Americans at every bend in the road if they chose to do so. It promised to be an ugly business.

But for the fun and games to begin, they first had to get to Highway 2 by striking across country. Hopefully, more or less, they would catch the Japanese by surprise and seize the road without too much of a fight.

“Mud, mud, and more mud,” Philly muttered, slogging through the flooded field. “Let me just point out that this is our third time crossing these damn rice paddies. I’ve got to say, I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Nobody gives a damn if you’re sick and tired of it,” Deke pointed out. He was reminded of being a boy on the farm and putting up endless rows of hay on a hot July day. “You ain’t got no choice but to do it.”

“You’d think I’d get better at it by now,” Philly said, “considering all the practice I’ve had with it.”

If it was possible, the flooded fields felt even hotter than they had the previous day. The intent had been to start out at dawn, but any large military operation never got off to a smooth start. Consequently, the tropical sun was already well on its way to its zenith, and the heat beat down upon them. Once again, the humidity was amplified by the surrounding water.