Pacific Sniper

A couple of other men had gone over to help search the body, but mostly they were hoping for souvenirs. Somebody grabbed the dead Jap’s knife, and somebody else got his belt buckle. Conlon, carrying the sniper rifle, used the toe of his boot to poke at the Jap’s weed-covered helmet.

“What a bunch of goddamn buzzards,” the sergeant said. “Listen, next time be careful. You never know when one of these bodies is booby-trapped.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

The sergeant had picked up the Japanese rifle and shucked the bolt out, then tossed it into the weeds. He threw the rifle itself in another direction. Then he picked up Ben’s rifle. “We’re not leaving any weapons here for the Japs to use against us. Nothing gets left behind, and if it does, then disable that weapon. Everybody got that?”

“Yes, sir!”

He took a closer look at Ben’s rifle. “You know what? This rifle has not been fired. Cole, I thought you said Hemphill shot the Jap?”

Deke didn’t answer.

The sergeant frowned but didn’t press the issue. “I guess you got confused. What matters is that the Jap is dead and you’re not,” he said. “OK, let’s move out.”

“What about Hemphill?” somebody asked.

“Graves registration will find him,” the sergeant said. “No point dragging his sorry dead ass back down to the beach unless you want to end up just like him.”

Nobody said anything, but nobody liked the thought of leaving Hemphill’s body behind. Maybe he hadn’t been much of a soldier, but he’d been one of their own.

“Look, it was a hell of a thing getting this far, and we’ve already lost some men, but the war is just getting started for us,” the sergeant said. “You saw how that Jap was camouflaged. Keep your eyes open. Hell, they could be anywhere. Egan, get out front with that mutt. See if her nose does any good.”

The soldiers started forward into the jungle, following the sergeant. They moved around Deke like water in a creek flows around a boulder, giving him a wide berth.

“Batshit crazy,” somebody muttered.

“Knock it off,” another soldier said under his breath. “Let’s see how you do when the time comes.”

Deke didn’t care what the others thought. Maybe they were right, that he had gone crazy, at least for a minute, but he felt calm now. He took one last look at Ben’s body, small and lifeless on the sand. Just a short time ago, Ben had still been living and breathing. Deke was no stranger to death, having seen his share of tragedy in a hard childhood, but that didn’t mean he would ever really get used to it.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Deke muttered. “I’m sorry that I let you down.”

Looking into the green, tangled wall of vegetation in front of him, he realized that he wasn’t afraid.

He was angry.

Finally, Deke reached for his rifle, picking it out of the sand. He gave Ben’s body one last look, then started into the jungle after the others.

Chapter Three

The weeks leading up to the landing had been the quiet before the storm for the thousands of Japanese troops ordered to defend Guam to the last man. For weeks on the island, the Japanese had been digging in, awaiting the American attack.

The sea had remained empty, but for how long?

They had hoped that their own fleet would crush the Americans in the Philippine Sea and prevent them from reaching Guam, but they had not even seen a glimpse of a Japanese ship for several days. Long before the American fleet came into sight, supplies had begun to run low.

“When will the enemy be here, sir?” wondered Private Kimura, a young soldier assigned to Captain Mitsuyuki Okubo. The two of them were making their way through the crews of soldiers laboring to build defenses, with Okubo noting the best places to position snipers.

He knew that one well-placed sniper could delay an entire company—he had seen it on Guadalcanal, and he planned to repeat the strategy here.

It was a measure of the situation that the private was more fearful of the Americans than of asking the intimidating captain questions.

“Do not worry about them surprising us,” Okubo said. “They will let us know when they are here. You can be sure of that.”

“Will we win the battle, sir?”

Okubo frowned. He glared at the skinny, tired-looking private. He did not like to hear soldiers express doubt. Doubt led to defeat. As the great samurai-philosopher Miyamoto Musashi had once written, “No fear, no hesitation, no surprise, no doubt.” These were the elements of victory.

Okubo could have berated the private—even beaten him with impunity if he wished. The rules for treatment of enlisted soldiers were very different in the Japanese military from those in the United States forces. However, other soldiers nearby had paused in their labors to listen for the captain’s answer. Okubo felt that this was an opportunity to instill confidence rather than fear.

“Do you know about the Battle of Takatenjin?” he asked.

“I do not know this battle, sir.” The private looked near panic, as if he must have overlooked some aspect of his military indoctrination.