Savage Sniper

Yamagata wore a pistol on his belt, but his main weapon was the bow that he carried. At first glance, a bow might seem to be a poor weapon against a rifle or pistol, but Yamagata knew better. He had hunted with a bow since boyhood, bringing down a variety of game.

His head ached a bit from the sake he had imbibed the night before, so he took a deep breath of fresh air, then another, hoping to clear his head. Otherwise, he felt strong and capable, even excited. He had not felt this way in many years, not since he was a boy going hunting in the mountains of Korea. At the time, that vassal nation served as a vast playground for Japanese sportsmen. He had hunted for days at a time in the rugged mountains and loved every minute of it.

There was no doubt that Yamagata had a great deal of experience as a hunter, in many types of terrain.

The bow made a good weapon at the close ranges in the jungle. It was also nearly silent.

There was also the fact that such a primitive weapon created a sense of fear and intimidation. Unlike a man hit by a bullet, a man shot with an arrow did not usually die instantly. Typically he would bleed to death, aware of the pain of an arrow buried inside him. Yamagata knew well enough how it worked, and even he shuddered at the thought.

He nodded at Sergeant Matsueda, who shouted the order to move out. The column marched through the gate.

Already the sun was beginning to rise over the distant ocean, the dawn light filtering through the forest. Mist clung to the tree trunks. The chattering of insects gradually increased with the light and heat.

In Japan, there was the belief that various minor gods or spirits inhabited the natural world, especially forests, mountains, and lakes. These were known as yōkai. Yamagata supposed that these foreign lands also had their demi-gods and spirits. Because he believed in the old ways, he said a silent prayer now to the yōkai of the forest, asking for success.

They were now on the hunt.

* * *

The column made up of Patrol Easy, the Filipino guerrillas, and the former POWs had already been moving through the woods for hours when the first gray light of morning arrived. The forest around them was growing slightly brighter as the sun rose on another steamy tropical day.

Lieutenant Steele called for a halt, their first since the daring breakout. Gratefully, many of the men sank to the ground, too exhausted to talk, much less feel any excitement about having escaped from the POW camp.

“Share your rations, fellas,” Lieutenant Steele said. “I know we haven’t got much, but these boys need it more than we do.”

Unfortunately, nobody had thought through how to feed the former prisoners by bringing extra rations on the raid. It had not even been a consideration when Major Flanders had briefed them for this mission. Steele supposed that the best they could do was reach American lines as quickly as possible.

However, it was clear that the lack of food was critical for men who were already on the razor’s edge. They had no reserves of energy or extra calories to burn.

It was a rare soldier who wolfed down his C rations with gusto. After all, C rations were designed as a means of survival in the field and would never be confused with a home-cooked meal. However, the former prisoners devoured everything they could, right down to licking the cans clean, even the cans of the dreaded lima beans and ham.

“I hate to say it, but that was delicious,” said Faraday, smacking his lips.

Deke laughed. “You must have been pretty damn hungry.”

“You saw what the Japs fed us. It could hardly be called food.”

“You mean that dishwater with weeds in it? You’d be right about that.”

Deke had already introduced Steele and Faraday, the de facto commander and spokesman for the liberated prisoners.

The two officers conferred, with Faraday pushing to let the men rest for an hour.

“We don’t have the time,” Steele replied. “It will be a massacre if the Japanese catch up to us.”

“How long do you think they can keep running without a rest? Some of these men haven’t had solid food in months,” Faraday countered. “They just ate. Now let them get a little sleep. When they wake up, you’ll have soldiers again. That’s all they need — some food and sleep. Well, some guns would help. These boys can’t wait to get back at the enemy.”

Steele conceded the point. The truth was that nobody had gotten any sleep the night before. Even a short rest would do them all good. “One hour,” he said.

Deke didn’t need to be told twice. He was exhausted, and his body ached from all the punishment it had taken. He curled himself up into a ball and instantly fell asleep on the bare ground as if it had been a feather bed.