“Save your breath,” the officer told Yoshio.
Not eager to join in the mopping-up operation, Deke and the other snipers found themselves cooling their heels. It was uncertain when they would be ordered down to Palo. Here on the hill, the Japanese artillery and mortars had been firing for hours. Not anymore.
The first thing Deke noticed when the barrage stopped was how quiet it had become. There was still plenty of artillery in the distance, but the sudden silence was eerie on the hill, like when the band stopped playing at a barn dance.
From time to time in the newfound quiet, they could hear strange singing underground as the Japanese soldiers awaited their fate. Maybe Deke was only imagining it, but he thought that he could hear that singing give way to the screams of the dying Japanese.
But the way most of the soldiers saw it, there was a job to do, however gruesome it might be. At least that was the story they told themselves. Any Japanese left alive were bound to reappear and cause more trouble. There was no question of making this a clean fight. This was no longer a battle but had become a slaughter, a killing operation. Deke reckoned that it was no different from eradicating gophers back home on the farm.
The enemy below had dedicated themselves to nothing less than the destruction of the United States and its allies. They had killed more than a few GIs here on the hill, and now they would pay the price. The GIs were exacting their revenge. Deke didn’t like it, but he understood. He just wasn’t proud of it.
It was all why the orders to get to Palo were welcome. When a line of infantrymen began descending the hill, Deke and Philly fell in once Honcho gave them the signal. The trip down the steep hill was only marginally easier than coming up had been, due mainly to the fact that gravity was now on their side. But there was a lot of slipping and cursing, with no clear trail to follow. The troops found themselves plunged back into jungle surroundings.
“I swear that if I find a banana leaf big enough I’m just gonna get on it and slide down,” Philly said after he had fallen yet again.
“You just ain’t graceful like me,” Deke said. Some of his good humor had returned now that the smell of burning flesh from the underground fires was fading.
Deke was indeed the only one who had seemed to keep his feet. But while the others were busy falling down and picking themselves up, he also kept an uneasy eye on their surroundings, rifle at the ready. Not every Japanese had been sealed inside Hill 522. Due to the heavy jungle growth, the terrain was perfect for an ambush.
Coming down off the hill and reaching the outskirts of town, the jungle faded away. They walked through small plots containing rows of vegetables — what they would have called kitchen gardens back home. It served as a reminder that, for the Filipinos, this was not some distant battleground. This was their home.
Feeling exhausted, the GIs managed to place one foot in front of another, glad to be putting the hill behind them. Yoshio had been busy trying to talk with a wounded Japanese soldier who had expired without saying more beyond telling his wife that he loved her. He hurried to catch up, but he hadn’t gotten word that they were headed into more action.
“Are we returning to the beach?” he asked eagerly.
“No, we’re being pulled off Hill 522 to occupy Palo,” Philly said. “Assuming the Japanese aren’t already there, in which case we’ll have another fight on our hands.”
“More fighting? It seems like the army won’t be satisfied until we are dead,” Yoshio remarked.
Philly smirked. “You catch on fast, you know that?”
Deke tried to reassure him. “It’ll be different this time, kid. Honcho says we’ll have tanks with us. They’ll bust through any Japs as easy as pie.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“You know what, kid?” Philly continued. “Maybe you ought to go first, ask any Japs in town if they want to surrender. If you ask polite enough, maybe they’ll put down their guns and they won’t fight.”
“All right, stuff a sock in it, Philly,” said Honcho, gathering the squad. “Listen up, fellas. We’re going to hang back and watch for snipers while the rest of these guys go in ahead of us. Nobody knows how many Japs are in this town, if any, so keep awake. We’ve got armor to lead the way, so we’re going to let the tanks go in first and do the heavy lifting.”
Nothing cheered infantrymen so much as the sight of their own tanks leading the way. The tanks were not invincible, but they could take a lot more of what was thrown at them than a humble GI could. Even the bullets from the dreaded Nambu machine guns bounced right off. They could also dish out a lot of punishment.
“There they go,” Philly said, sounding almost gleeful.
The two tanks rolled toward the town. Both tank commanders had their hatches open, to help them navigate the street ahead. The street was cobblestoned, and the tracks clacked down the street, sometimes cracking stones as they went.
Reassured by the presence of the tanks, most of the GIs figured that taking Palo was going to be a piece of cake.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once they had reached the town, Ikeda turned to his men and whispered harshly, “Follow me!”
They ran to the doorway of a commercial building and pounded up the stairs. A corner of the building was missing, damaged by a bomb, looking like a big bite had been taken out of it. Ikeda positioned his men along the open windows overlooking the street and square below.
From his perch above the narrow street, Ikeda looked down with satisfaction. He and his men had a commanding view of the street. They also had a front-row seat to the scene that was unfolding below.
The bulk of the refugees had been forced ahead of the Japanese, creating a human buffer. The Americans would be reluctant to fire on civilians — Japanese forces had no such qualms. He was sure that the Americans would be taken by surprise. Meanwhile, the horde of civilians would provide good cover, enabling the Japanese troops to get quite close before opening fire.
It was the perfect ruse. The trap had been set.
From their position up here, Ikeda and his men would wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Americans.
“Sir!” Morosawa shouted.
Ikeda looked in that direction and saw with satisfaction that the soldier was pointing at a small force of Americans advancing through the street, directly toward the mass of civilians flowing toward them. There were two tanks leading the way, but all that firepower would be useless against what was about to happen.
Ikeda put his rifle to his shoulder and waited for the Americans to come into range.
Looking around, Deke noted that Palo really was a proper town with masonry buildings and a handful of two- and even three-story structures. The buildings made him a little uneasy because he preferred being surrounded by fields or forests. He had yet to fight in anything resembling a town.
At the moment, the town also seemed to be deserted. There wasn’t even so much as a dog in sight, which was a little unusual, because the lean little village dogs were usually found in abundance. The dogs seemed to be smart enough to have cleared out. The only dog in sight was Thor, straining against his leash as if to say, Let me at ’em!
Soldiers followed on the heels of the tanks.
“Hey, where are the Japs?” somebody shouted.
“Shut the hell up!” yelled a sergeant.
But the man had simply said what was on everybody’s mind.
“Looks like the Japs didn’t have time to put out the welcome mat,” Philly said.