Savage Sniper

The old Spanish administration was sent on its way, Spanish Jesuits included, and control of the churches had then fallen to actual Filipino priests.

As part of that new generation, Father Francisco had shepherded the flock in Palo, overseeing the centuries-old church there. The Japanese invasion had caused more upheaval. He had been forced to go on the run by the Japanese. From the jungles, Father Francisco had ministered to the spiritual needs of his flock and played a leadership role in the Filipino resistance.

As it turned out, Father Francisco and the guerrillas had only an inkling of the details of the mission, so Lieutenant Steele quickly filled them in.

When he had finished, Steele asked the priest, “What do you think?”

“Some of my men know this camp. They can certainly guide us there.” Concern clouded the priest’s face. “I am afraid that it won’t be easy. The garrison there is organized, and by all accounts the POW camp is well defended. I think you would say, ‘It won’t be a walk in the park.’”

“That’s why we’re glad to have your help.”

“Perhaps the Japanese will do us all a favor and surrender,” the priest said, a wry twist to his mouth. “Everywhere, the Japanese are being pushed back on Leyte.”

Steele shared the concerns Major Flanders had expressed, that the enemy might simply kill the American POWs outright rather than see them released. “It would be a sharp stick in the eye,” he said. “But you know the Japanese as well as I do. They can be vindictive bastards.”

“Sadly, I have some experience with that,” the priest agreed.

It was true that the occupiers had mistreated the locals, sweeping through the towns and countryside in the last few months to round up any able-bodied men to put them to work building defenses. Essentially, the Filipino population had been used as slave labor.

There had been no recourse or any avenue for appeal. The Philippines was commanded by the military rather than a civilian administration. The local officials allowed to remain in place were often puppets of the Japanese, seeking any crumbs that the occupiers offered them. In Ormoc and Palo, many of the local leaders were skilled at appearing loyal to the occupiers while actually working against them.

“We need to reach that POW camp and free those prisoners before the Japanese get desperate,” Steele said. “They won’t stop short of murder if it means not having to release those men. They’ll do anything to cover their tracks now that MacArthur has made it known that he considers mistreatment of POWs a war crime.”

“In that case, we have no time to lose,” Father Francisco replied.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Now that Patrol Easy was reunited with Father Francisco and his tough band of guerrillas, all of whom hated the Japanese fervently, they began to move through the jungle.

The ad hoc task force was not without some tensions. First and foremost was the language barrier. The guerrillas spoke either Spanish or the Filipino dialect known as Tagalog. As usual, Danilo remained cagey about how much English he knew. This left Father Francisco as the only interpreter due to his ability to move seamlessly from one language to the next.

At the same time, this kept Lieutenant Steele dependent on the priest to relay any and all orders to the guerrillas. While the lieutenant was nominally in charge of the operation, it was clear that nothing was going to happen without the priest’s cooperation, and the guerrilla force outnumbered Patrol Easy. Deke noticed that Lieutenant Steele was diplomatic enough to confer with the priest rather than issuing direct orders. However, the added step took time.

When push came to shove and the bullets started to fly, there might not be an opportunity for discussion. Who was going to be in charge? Deke hoped they didn’t find out the hard way that the lieutenant and the priest had different ideas regarding strategy.

Deke had almost forgotten how impressed he had been with the Filipino guerrillas during their mission behind enemy lines against the massive gun battery on Hill 522. He was reminded of their ability now, watching the dozen guerrillas move silently along the jungle path. They moved with a relaxed gait that challenged the Americans to keep up.

There was no talking, and each man appeared alert to the jungle surroundings, almost as if he were moving entirely on his own even though he was part of the patrol.

The Filipinos wore an odd assortment of clothing that included uniform parts scavenged from the Japanese, along with captured Japanese weapons. Most wore sandals rather than boots, enabling them to move quickly and silently down the trail.

Whenever an offending tree limb hung over the path, one of their long bolo knives flashed, its sharp blade clearing the trail. The guerrillas knew their business, that was for damn sure.

Not for the first time, Deke was glad that the guerrillas were on their side, fighting against a common enemy.