Savage Sniper

Steele and the rest of Patrol Easy kept an uneasy watch, half-expecting the sounds of pursuit to reach them at any moment. The hour passed all too quickly. But even that short rest, along with the food, had done the men a world of good. Many were still weak from their long ordeal, but at least they now had the attitude of soldiers once again.

However, for two of the former prisoners, escape had come too late. These were the men who, Deke recalled, had been too weak to go out on the work detail. When the orders came to move out, they did not stir. It was soon clear that they would never move again. Their final reserves had been used up in the escape from the prison camp.

“Poor bastards,” Deke said.

“At least they died free,” Faraday pointed out. “A fella can’t ask for much more than that in this world.”

* * *

The column was soon up and moving. They could have all used more food and more rest, but this was as much as they were going to get for now.

Deke had already reunited with Rodeo and Yoshio. As for Danilo, the man seemed to have disappeared.

“Have you got something for me?” Deke asked, once he had caught up to Philly.

“What, your rifle and knife?”

Deke had given them to Philly for safekeeping before surrendering himself to the Japanese. Being caught with a sniper’s rifle wouldn’t have done him any favors with the enemy.

“Yeah, my rifle and bowie knife.”

“You know what, I traded them to one of the guerrillas for a jug of hooch.”

“That’s too bad for you,” Deke said. “I would’ve just shot you or cut your head off, but now I reckon I’ll have to carve your heart out with a spoon, slow and painful like.”

“Relax, Corn Pone.” Philly grinned and touched the rifle slung over his shoulder. He carried his own rifle in his hands. “I’ve got your rifle right here. Your knife too.”

“It’s about time,” Deke said. “Got to admit, I felt kind of naked without Old Betsy.”

Philly handed the weapons over. Deke was more than glad to hold the rifle once more. The smooth wood and cold steel were as familiar in his grasp as an old friend — or even a lover. He slipped the knife onto his belt and slid it around to his hip. He felt ready for action once again.

“Are you feeling OK?” Philly asked. “How was being a prisoner?”

“It wasn’t great, I can tell you that much. But I was only there a short time. Some of these boys have been guests of the Japanese for months.” Deke nodded at the man Philly was helping along the trail. “They weren’t shown a whole lot of hospitality.”

“No, it sure doesn’t look like it,” Philly agreed.

As it turned out, Deke had gotten his rifle and knife back none too soon. From the rear of the column, they heard shots being fired. Father Francisco and his guerrillas had once again taken the duty of being the rear guards, so the firing meant that the Japanese had caught up with them.

“Sounds like the fun is about to begin,” Deke said, turning toward the sound of the shooting.

“Hey, where are you going?” Philly asked.

“You asked me how I was doing. Well, now, I’ve been kicked, beaten, and starved. Enough is enough.” Deke gave a cold smile. “I reckon it’s time for a little payback — with interest.”

Deke didn’t know it yet, but that payback wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as he thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

At the rear of the column, Father Francisco and his Filipino fighters already had their hands full holding off the pursuers.

The dense vegetation worked in their favor, forcing the enemy to stay on the path. As a result, the enemy couldn’t spread out to bring their full firepower to bear. The dense forest typically made flanking the guerrillas difficult — but as it turned out, not impossible. Meanwhile, the guerrillas’ tactics brought the pursuit to a halt in the way that a cork stoppered a bottle.

The guerrillas were familiar with fighting in this way and had staggered themselves so that each man had a clear line of fire, some standing, some kneeling, enabling them to send a lot more lead in the direction of the enemy than they were receiving.

However, it was a mistake to underestimate the Japanese, who were experts in their own way at jungle warfare. While the main body of pursuers engaged the guerrillas on the trail, a handful led by Colonel Yamagata slipped into the forest.

The going was difficult, every step requiring them to force their way through the underbrush. Yamagata used his bow to push aside the brush, but it became tangled in some vines. He managed to pull it free. All around him, his men were having similar difficulties with their rifles. The problem was compounded by the fact that they were trying to move quietly and without being seen from the trail. Fortunately for them, the forest created such a thick screen he could hardly see the man to his right or left, though they were no more than ten feet away.

They managed to position themselves parallel to the trail, close enough to see the guerrillas pouring fire at his own men. Yamagata smiled. The Filipinos were about to get an unpleasant surprise.