Savage Sniper

However, not everyone could fit within the bunker. Many of the Filipino fighters hunkered down in foxholes that had been dug around the bunker itself. These were men who preferred taking their chances out in the open over being confined in a bunker.

A few of the former POWs joined them. Those who had the energy to do so were adding whatever they could to the defenses, from logs to rocks. A few sandbags were dragged into new positions. The result could hardly be called a fortress, but it was better than nothing.

Not wasting any more time, Deke slipped inside the bunker. He took note of the armored door that was being left open for now to communicate with the men in the foxholes. The door was built of heavy boards with reinforcing bands of steel, almost like a medieval castle door. The steel was already rusting badly in the tropical conditions, leaving long streaks like dried blood splashed across the wood. The door wouldn’t have been much use against heavy weapons, but it would be more than adequate to stop bullets.

For now the bunker would be the center of their defense. The bunker was really more of a rectangular “pillbox” in that it was not buried into a hillside but was freestanding. The Japanese must have built it here for an outpost to guard the jungle trail, but the enemy had abandoned this post in the middle of nowhere.

It had been designed with narrow horizontal firing slits set into all four sides. The slits were really intended for machine guns, but they would work well enough for riflemen as well.

“Padre, you and your men take those two sides,” Lieutenant Steele ordered. “My boys will cover the other two sides.”

“As you say,” Father Francisco said. “Unfortunately, we are running low on ammunition.”

“Then better make each shot count.”

“I thought that I might pray.”

“That might not be a bad idea,” Steele agreed.

Although the ceiling was quite low, the bunker was surprisingly spacious even when crowded with so many men. The weakest POWs were immediately put into the two rough bunks. To Deke’s nose once again came the vaguely fishy smell that he always seemed to associate with the Japanese. Although the bunker clearly had not been occupied by the enemy for quite some time, the smell still lingered.

Here in the jungle, concrete had not been used in the bunker’s construction. Instead, the bunker was built of rammed earth, stone, and even logs cut from the forest. Nonetheless, it seemed sturdy enough to keep any attacker except maybe a tank at bay. Although he felt reassured, there was also the nagging thought that while none of the enemy was getting in, none of the defenders would be getting out as long as they were surrounded by the Japanese. They were trapped like rats in a box. Deke pushed that uncomfortable thought from his mind.

He took up a position alongside Philly. Yoshio and Rodeo covered the other firing slit. Father Francisco and the guerrillas had taken charge of the other firing slits.

“How are we doing for ammo?” the lieutenant asked.

“Getting low,” Deke replied. He had used up a surprising number of bullets keeping the enemy at bay on the path.

“Same here,” said Yoshio.

Father Francisco had already warned that the guerrillas’ ammo supply was getting low, which wasn’t reassuring. It didn’t help that the Americans and the Filipinos were largely armed with different weapons — several of the guerrillas still carried Arisaka rifles that had been liberated in one way or another from the Japanese.

The arrangement left the bulk of the former POWs in the foxholes ringing the bunker, nervously awaiting their fate. Faraday and Cooper were armed with pistols, which wouldn’t do much good unless the Japanese came extremely close to the American position.

“We’ve got company,” announced Deke, who was peering out at the clearing. He spotted the Japanese swarming down the path, spreading out and taking positions around the bunker.

“Listen up, everybody,” Steele announced. “We are getting low on ammo. We need to make each shot count.”

“How the hell are we getting out of here, Honcho?” Philly wanted to know. “The Japanese are going to have us surrounded.”

“We would’ve been sitting ducks on that trail,” the lieutenant responded. “Now we’ve got them right where we want them. We can whittle away at them while these men rest, and then once it’s dark, we can slip away.”

“Sounds good to me, Honcho,” Philly said.

“Dammit, Philly, I wasn’t asking your opinion. Now act like a sniper and shoot anybody that the enemy sends against us.”

Deke decided that the lieutenant was being optimistic for the benefit of those listening. The look in his one good eye told a different story — Lieutenant Steele knew damn well that they were in a tight spot.

The Japanese attack began not with a fusillade of bullets, but with a single arrow. The arrow flashed through the air and arced down into one of the foxholes. A man screamed as the arrow pierced him.

Only then did the shooting begin.