Savage Sniper

One by one, under the watchful eye of a Japanese soldier who wielded a rifle with a bayonet, the prisoners in the work detail dumped out the contents of their buckets into a growing pile of rocks.

When one man did stumble, a Japanese sergeant stepped forward and beat him across the back with a cane, the way that a cruel farmer might beat a mule. All the while, the sergeant screamed at him in Japanese in a voice so loud that it carried all the way to the hidden patrol.

Deke couldn’t understand a word of it, but Yoshio did.

“He is telling him to get up and work, or he will die,” Yoshio interpreted.

It was unlikely that the prisoner understood the words, either, but he certainly understood the meaning. He struggled to get up, unsuccessfully. This seemed to further infuriate the guard, who rained yet more blows down on the prisoner with such force that Deke could hear them clearly as drumbeats.

He put the rifle to his shoulder. Mission be damned, it was time to put an end to that Japanese son of a bitch. He put his sights on the officer’s throat.

Philly caught sight of what he was doing and muttered a warning, “Deke, don’t do it. You’ll get everybody killed, including us.”

Deke wasn’t sure that he cared as long as he could shoot that guard. The sergeant in his sights was broad shouldered and powerfully built, looking as if he could snap most of the prisoners in half if he wanted to. Deke ached to shoot that guard in the worst way. His finger touched the trigger.

Beside him, he felt Philly go tense and heard him say, “Aw, hell. Here we go.”

But Deke held his fire.

He kept his finger on the trigger. Deep down he knew that Philly was right. He’d just have to be patient.

Another one of the prisoners had interceded in the beating, reaching down to help the fallen man. He received several blows from the cane for his trouble and what sounded like curses, but he was able to get the other prisoner back on his feet, and they both managed to reach the rock pile and dump their loads.

The sergeant was still shouting, and the guard with the rifle looked disappointed that he hadn’t been able to shoot anybody. Judging by the number of graves in the boneyard, it was likely that he would get another chance sooner rather than later.

Deke shook his head. This was slave labor, pure and simple. Lieutenant Steele would have explained that it went against every rule set by the Geneva Convention. They already knew that the Japanese didn’t care about that. The few prisoners taken by American forces were treated decently and not expected to work.

But worse than that, what the Japanese were doing was cruel, even vicious. Deke felt his anger sticking in the back of his throat as if he’d swallowed a bone.

It was hot and humid enough hiding out in the dappled shade offered by the jungle. Deke couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to be working in the hot sun.

Reluctantly, he eased his finger off the trigger and lowered the rifle.

“I’ll get you yet, you son of a bitch,” he muttered.

* * *

They settled down to wait and observe. There had been some hope that they could sweep in, quickly defeat the Japanese guards, rescue the prisoners, and be on their way.

No such luck. They could see now that those hopes had been overly optimistic. They were outnumbered by the garrison, and the camp appeared well defended. Also, they had not anticipated that the prisoners would be in such rough shape. Even after they were liberated, the journey back to Ormoc would be slow and difficult for these weakened, malnourished men.

“All right, men. It looks as if we can’t just overwhelm the guards,” Lieutenant Steele said. “We’ll have to figure out another way to crack open this particular nut.”

The lieutenant had called a powwow in the shade of a large Malabulak tree; the cotton-like fibers from the seed pods of these trees were used as the filling known as kapok in life jackets. Father Francisco listened intently to what the lieutenant had to say, then relayed the information to the Filipino guerrillas. Their blank faces did not reveal their thoughts once they were informed of the situation. They simply nodded in acceptance.

Deke appreciated the Filipino fighters’ commitment to rescuing the prisoners, the bulk of which were Americans. After all, he supposed that these men all had homes and land that they would prefer to fight for, not to mention families to get back to, but here they were standing up to the Japanese in every way. They were damn good men and tough customers.

“I would almost say that at this point we should simply wait for the Japanese to be finished here on Leyte,” Father Francisco said. “It can’t be that much longer.”

Steele shook his head. “That’s a nice thought, Padre, but we don’t have that much time. The Japanese might not be finished for weeks or months. They seem to have plenty of fight left in them.”

“You make a good point, Lieutenant.”