Savage Sniper

Deke didn’t return right away, because he didn’t like his chances in broad daylight. He had gotten lucky with the ruse of waving at the Japanese soldiers, or pretending to be a farmer. He didn’t want to press his luck and count too much on the enemy being oblivious. The Japanese were many things, but they sure as hell weren’t fools. Instead, he would return under cover of darkness.

He was so close to the highway now that he could hear the rumble of passing supply trucks and the occasional shouts of a few soldiers, even laughter. The Japanese sure as hell didn’t sound like they’d been beaten. Maybe nobody had told them yet.

It was hot among the trees, but at least the foliage offered cover and shade. He hadn’t brought anything to eat, which was too bad. His belly growled. Just like the good old days growin’ up, he reckoned. There had been more than a few hungry times on the farm. Back then he hadn’t known any better and just figured it was part of life. He had never complained about C rations the way some men did.

Being hungry for a few hours wouldn’t kill him, he knew from hard experience. A bigger concern was exhaustion. He realized how tired he was and even managed to nod off.

He woke with a start, having fallen into a deep sleep. It was the best sleep that he had gotten in a while. He chalked it up to knowing that the enemy was on the highway nearby, oblivious to his presence, so different from being in a foxhole awaiting an attack. He was also alone — which meant not having to listen to Philly’s bitching or his snoring.

It was starting to get dark. The day’s heat had faded, but not the humidity. It was as steamy as ever, like the hottest August night you could imagine back home. The flooded rice paddies were no strangers to mosquitoes, and now great flocks of them emerged, filling the spaces in Deke’s grassy refuge with their whining. He grinned at the humor in the fact that it wouldn’t be the Japanese who drove him out of his hiding place, but the mosquitoes.

Time to get moving.

He figured that Patrol Easy had covered maybe five miles after leaving the outskirts of Ormoc. Moving alone, Deke had gone another three miles or so. All told, that meant covering seven miles in the dark, with the added challenge of the presence of Japanese troops.

His disguised rifle would no longer be of any use in the dark, so he unwrapped it and left the trappings behind in the tall grass. There was still plenty of movement on the road, especially because American planes would leave the Japanese alone at night. The rumble of trucks filled the night, with vehicles busy ferrying men and supplies away from the coastal areas and deeper into Leyte and the port the enemy still held at Palompon.

He returned along the dirt road he had found, so the first couple of miles were fairly easy. Once he had to dodge off the road and into a ditch after he heard enemy troops coming his way. Even in the dark, he was able to count a half-dozen soldiers. He supposed that they were on patrol, keeping a lookout for any Americans or Filipino guerrillas. Deke held his breath until they walked on.

He gave the larger collection of huts a wide berth, just in case there were more Japanese spending the night there. He stuck to the fields instead. The mud squishing between his bare toes actually felt good, and he didn’t even mind the water on this hot night.

Splash.

Deke froze at the sound. There was something else out here in the rice paddy. Something at least as big as a man, from the sounds of it.

He kept his rifle ready and waited.

There it was again. Splash. A pause. Splash, splash.

The splashes were unevenly spaced, very much like a man trying to move with stealth through a very watery environment.

He strained to see in the gloom.

The darkness seemed to shift and gather at a point just to his left, exactly where the sounds were coming from. He kept his finger on the trigger and waited.

If it was a false alarm, then the last thing that he wanted was to alert any Japanese in the vicinity with a rifle shot.

Then the night coalesced around a lone cow, making its way across the rice paddy, pausing every now and then to dip its head and graze at the rice shoots.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

Shaking his head, he moved on. Normally he might have covered that distance in a couple of hours if walking at a swift pace. But in the muck and water, it took him closer to three hours.

By the time someone challenged him with the password, it was close to midnight.

“I wasn’t sure if that was you or the swamp thing,” Philly said. “Then again, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever see you again.”

“What, just because I had to walk about three miles by myself behind enemy lines, waving at the goddamn Japanese the whole way? Shame on ye of little faith.”

“Waving at the Japanese?”

“For some reason, they kept thinking I was a rice farmer.”

Lieutenant Steele approached. “Glad you’re back, Deke. What did you find out?”