The two bomb squad guys had grown serious, emphasizing the fact that the stakes were high, and one wrong move could be the end for all of them. They worked meticulously, sweat beading on their foreheads as they carefully maneuvered around the Japanese munitions, using their flashlights to catch a glimpse of any trip wires glittering in the flashlight beam.
Meanwhile, Deke pulled his eyes away to join the lieutenant in keeping an eye on the darkness beyond. They were confident that they had swept the tunnel clean earlier, but all it would take was one leftover enemy soldier with suicide on his mind to blow them all sky high. He and Honcho kept their own flashlights off so that they wouldn’t be targeted easily if there were any Japanese around.
Deke’s heart raced faster with each motion of the demolitions team, the weight of impending danger bearing down on him as if the walls of the tunnel were constricting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something could still go wrong, that their lives hung in the balance. As Sparks and Fuze edged their way through the darkness, Deke silently prayed that they’d make it through this unscathed. He cursed himself for volunteering to stay behind, but there was no way that he was going to leave the lieutenant down here.
“Almost there,” Sparks muttered, his voice barely audible. Fuze nodded, his breaths coming shallow and rapid. There was no wisecracking now. In the pale flashlight beam, sweat beaded both men’s faces.
“Got it,” Sparks whispered triumphantly, holding up the last piece of wire. Fuze let out a slow, shaky breath before breaking into a wide grin.
“Piece of cake,” he said, winking at Sparks.
“Let’s not celebrate just yet,” Sparks cautioned, gesturing toward the tunnel’s exit. “We still need to get these babies out of here.”
“Right,” Sparks agreed, straightening up and making his way back to Deke and Honcho. He addressed the lieutenant. “With your permission, could we get the rest of your patrol down here to help us figure out what we’ve got in this tunnel?”
“All right. Deke, go fetch the boys.”
Under the capable eyes of Sparks and Fuze, Patrol Easy reentered the tunnel to help with the inventory so that they knew what was being dealt with. But first Sparks offered some instruction.
“Unless you want to meet Saint Peter ahead of schedule, don’t touch anything that doesn’t look right,” Sparks said. “You’ve all got two eyes, so use ’em.”
It turned out that there was quite a lot to lay eyes on, not all of it ammunition, but explosive just the same. Fuze wrote it all down as the men called it out to him. They counted eight hundred drums of aviation fuel, nearly five hundred massive five-hundred-pound bombs, assorted mines and smaller bombs intended to be dropped from observation planes, and one hundred bomb fuses, each with enough juice to take off a man’s hand — or trigger a massive blast. The larger bombs had been intended for planes flying out of the nearby Japanese airstrip.
The question was, What to do with it all? As the lieutenant had stated before, they couldn’t simply leave it. Steele got on the radio and contacted HQ. He was told to salvage the fuel — and blow up the rest. The fuel could be used in American planes in a pinch, but Japanese ammunition wasn’t any good in US guns.
Of course, there was no good way for the handful of soldiers in Patrol Easy to roll eight hundred barrels up the sloping tunnel to the surface. They would need some help for that. Quickly, nearly thirty civilian men were rounded up and put to work. It was hot and sweaty laboring inside the tunnel, but the Filipinos were eager to help. They hadn’t been able to take part in the fighting, but this much they were glad to do. In fact, a couple of the local men took over and organized the entire effort. Within a few hours, the drums of fuel had been moved to the surface, surrounded by barbed wire to discourage any Japanese infiltrators, and put under guard by Filipino volunteers.
That left the matter of the ammunition stockpile. Orders were to destroy it. Grinning, Sparks announced that he had a plan for that. He and Fuze disappeared deeper into the tunnel carrying detonators and a roll of wire. They emerged half an hour later, just as the sun was starting to go down. The sky was fading to hues of pink and purple. Bats began to flit through the air.
“Well?” the lieutenant asked.
“For maximum effect, I’d suggest waiting until full dark,” Sparks said. “Also, I’d recommend getting everyone off this hill.”
They took up positions on the next hilltop, soldiers and civilians alike, gathering around as if preparing to watch July Fourth fireworks. A few guards kept watch for any Japanese who might still be on a night patrol. Sparks and Fuze were positioned closer to the tunnel in order to set off the detonator.
Suddenly the night sky exploded in a brilliant cascade of reds, blues, and greens, each fiery burst echoing across the expanse above. Deke watched in awe, and although he had seen his share of so-called fireworks in this war so far, this was something special. For a change, nobody was being blown up in the process. The very ground shook, even this far away. Beside him, Philly let out a low whistle.
“Would you look at that,” he said, nudging Deke in the ribs. “Not a bad way to dispose of the enemy’s weapons, huh?”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Deke replied, his eyes never leaving the spectacle unfolding before them. The Japanese munitions detonated in a display of dazzling pyrotechnics.
Sparks and Fuze appeared, their faces illuminated by the explosions, grinning like two schoolboys who had just pulled off an elaborate prank. It was hard for Deke not to smile along with them. After all, they had just successfully dismantled a dangerous cache of explosives without so much as a scratch. Watching it all go up with a bang felt like a just reward.
“Hey, Honcho,” Sparks called out, sauntering over to the lieutenant. “What do you think of the show?”
“Damn good job,” Honcho told them, clapping each man on the shoulder. “Maybe my country club back home can book you guys to handle the July Fourth show one of these days.”
“Wouldn’t that be great,” Sparks said, an almost dreamy sound in his voice. “Probably a lot less dangerous than what we’re doing now.”
More than one man felt a pang when Honcho mentioned home, and the Fourth of July, no less. It all sounded so normal, but would they ever get back home to that?
Another explosion lit the sky, a final blast lagging behind the others. Deke had to wonder what any Japanese must be thinking. It sure as hell sounded like the end of the world. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that one wrong step and they might have been inside that tunnel when the ammunition exploded.
Together, they stood and watched as the last of the Japanese munitions went up in a jet of flames. They could only hope that the Empire of Japan did the same — the sooner, the better.
A final echo rolled across the hills, and then darkness and quiet settled over the landscape once again. Even the night birds and insects seemed to have been stunned into silence. Deke knew all too well that the quiet wouldn’t last for long.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Deke had been right about things not staying quiet. There was some excitement during the night when Japanese infiltrators attacked the command post. At least twenty enemy soldiers appeared out of the darkness, carrying satchel-and-pole charges. Their intent was to destroy vehicles, and they did just that, rushing silently toward whatever trucks and M8 armored vehicles they could find.
The night was then interrupted by massive explosions. Soon the leaping flames from the burning vehicles illuminated Japanese troops hastening back toward the safety of the forest.
Several GIs opened fire, but it was hard for them to see what they were shooting at. It didn’t help that soldiers had come running toward the sound of the fighting, mixing with the fleeing infiltrators. “Hold your fire!” Lieutenant Steele shouted. “I said to hold your fire, dammit! You’ll hit our own guys.”