Savage Sniper

Deke turned to look with concern down the trail behind them. He could only guess that leadership of the pursuit had fallen to Lieutenant Osako, who would be the ranking officer at this point. Deke had not counted on Osako to be quite so diligent in his duties or so determined. Perhaps he had underestimated the man.

“Everybody keep moving,” Deke said. “It’s the best we can do.”

He had gotten his rifle back from Faraday, although he had just three rounds remaining. That was better than nothing. It took just one bullet to make a difference.

Growing up, there had been times when he’d had just one bullet and had been expected to come back with something for the supper pot. For the Cole family and for most others during the Great Depression era in the mountains, buying a whole box of bullets at once would have been an extravagance. The general store several miles from their farm sold bullets and shotgun shells individually for a few pennies each. Sometimes even those pennies were hard to come by. Hard cash was a scarce commodity. Nobody wasted a shot back then, and Deke didn’t plan on doing that now. The way he saw it, three bullets meant three dead Japanese.

He and Danilo slipped toward the rear of the column and hung back there in the brush at the side of the trail. From their position, they awaited the appearance of the Japanese. They had chosen a bend in the path as their hiding place, giving them a long view down the trail. As soon as the enemy came into sight, they would have a clear shot at them. Deke doubted that they would have to wait long.

The priest had seen to it that Danilo had a few more rounds for his rifle, but how many? Deke used three fingers to tap his own rifle. Danilo nodded and held up four fingers. He knew well enough that Danilo would also make each shot count.

Around them, the forest seemed to be holding its breath. Trees of varying heights fenced them in, some soaring skyward and others groping up through the shaded canopy, desperate for a bit of sunlight. Slender vines curled among broad leaves. A few droplets of water fell, making a patter on the broad brim of his bush hat. He welcomed the cover that the jungle provided, but at the same time, there was always something sinister about it, as if old spirits dwelled among the shadows. Back home he had encountered mountain forests that felt the same way.

There were also threats that were all too real. He watched a spider the size of his hand groping its way along a branch. An insect nibbled at the exposed back of his neck, but Deke ignored it, all his attention focused on the space where he expected the first enemy soldiers to appear.

The enemy did not disappoint. A couple of soldiers hurried along the trail, hot on the heels of the Americans.

Deke nodded at Danilo. Both men stepped into the center of the path and fired, dropping two enemy soldiers. Then they melted back into the forest. There was a flurry of shots from the enemy that passed harmlessly overhead. Better yet, the Japanese had temporarily halted, evidently worried that they were walking into an ambush. If more enemy soldiers did want to show themselves and get shot, he and Danilo would be happy to oblige.

Deke thought it was a damn shame that they didn’t have more ammo. He and Danilo might have held off the enemy indefinitely, just two men against many. That was the power of a sniper.

However, a sniper needed bullets to be effective. Another Japanese soldier crept forward, and Deke dropped him. One bullet left. He would have to make it count. Danilo gave him a look of concern that needed no translation. Once they were out of ammo, then what?

Deke put the rifle to his shoulder and his eye to the telescopic sight, so that the kaleidoscope of the jungle patterns and colors sprang closer. Another Japanese soldier came into view, and it was almost too easy to put his crosshairs on the man’s throat and drop him. Beside him, Danilo also fired, worked the bolt, fired again.

They were officially out of ammo, and there were still too many Japanese hot on their trail. Deke wasn’t about to abandon his rifle, so he slung it across his back and drew his bowie knife. Beside him, Danilo did the same, the man’s long bolo knife making an evil hiss as it came free of the scabbard. Maybe they could get in among the trees and spring out at the enemy, taking them by surprise. With any luck, they might even be able to get ahold of a couple of Japanese rifles.

Fortunately it didn’t come to that. They heard a shout from up the trail, in the direction of their own men. For once it was not a warning shout but a whoop of what might have been joy. Then they heard several voices cheering. The enemy behind them was temporarily stalled thanks to the telling effect of their final shots, so he and Danilo hurried to catch up with the others.