He wasn’t the only one who seemed to feel this way. Even Danilo, who was so adept at navigating the forests of the Philippines, just looked at Deke and shrugged. He appeared as lost as Deke felt.
After taking a wrong turn that led them away from the square, rather than closer to it, Deke had to admit, “This damn city all looks the same to me.”
“This way,” said Juana, stepping forward to take the lead. Instead of feeling miffed, Deke had to admit that he felt grateful.
Juana, a city girl who was somewhat familiar with the layout of Intramuros, suggested using the tunnel-like alleys that ran between the buildings. Even the boy seemed to know the way, and at one point he and Juana conferred briefly about which direction to take.
These alleys had been used since the Spanish colonial times. If the brooding stone walls could have spoken, what tales would they have told? No doubt these walls had seen their share of murders, thievery, and liaisons over the centuries. Dark and narrow, the alleys provided a sheltered route that enabled Patrol Easy and the Filipinos to work toward the rear of the legislative building without being seen. Their success depended entirely on the element of surprise.
It was risky, considering that at any moment they might go around a blind corner and run smack-dab into the Japanese, who could be planning to ambush them, but it could be their only chance at getting close enough to the building without drawing heavy fire from the enemy defenders within.
Cautiously, they made their way through the dark and rubble-strewn alleys until they reached a point directly behind the legislative building. Like city alleys everywhere, the sides were lined with trash cans, many of them knocked over, their contents not smelling very pleasant in the heat. An alley cat raised its head and glared at them as if considering holding its ground as they approached, then thought better of it and ran down the narrow crack between two buildings, dragging half a fish skeleton with it.
Clumsily, Philly’s boot kicked a garbage can lid, making it skitter and clang along the cobblestones.
“Dammit, Philly!” Lieutenant Steele muttered. “Watch where the hell you’re going.”
If there were any Japanese around, there was a good chance that they had heard that. They all went on high alert, straining to listen. Of course, the city itself was far from silent, with the constant thump of artillery and the crack of small-arms fire, most of it in the distance.
Sure enough, they could hear faint voices and even a few footsteps nearby, the sound of hobnails crunching through gravel or grinding on pavement, indicating that the Japanese were on the move. However, the confusing echoes in the narrow alleys made it hard to tell which direction the Japanese were taking. They were out there, but where?
“I hear them, but where the hell are they?” Philly wondered.
“I reckon they’re wondering the same thing about us,” Deke whispered harshly. “They sure as hell heard us. Now kindly shut your piehole or they’ll find us before we find them.”
This was going to be a game of cat and mouse. It was entirely possible that the Japanese had already guessed that the Americans were there. Would Patrol Easy get the drop on them, or would the Japanese turn the tables?
The end of the alley loomed, a partially collapsed brick wall that created a dead end. Cautiously, they looked out over the open ground between the end of the alley and the steps of the legislative building in the distance.
Deke motioned for Juana and Philly to stay put as he climbed the broken wall. He reached his destination — a shattered window near the top level that had been previously boarded up with wooden planks. He quickly pulled out his bowie knife and began to pry them off one by one, doing it as quietly as he could under the circumstances. He was still worried about where that Japanese patrol that they’d heard earlier had gone. He just hoped to hell that they hadn’t managed to circle back and were coming down on Patrol Easy through the alley.
He was soon at a point where he could look over the square. Peering out, he saw several Japanese soldiers standing guard on the upper floor of the building. His finger itched to get on the trigger and take some of them out, maybe wreak a bit of havoc, but what he saw next made him freeze. The Japanese patrol that they had heard was almost directly beneath him, having a smoke break. He could plainly see Inaba, the only one of the bunch who was looking cautiously around them, clearly on high alert.
Deke glanced back at the others, signaling that he had seen something. He quietly made his way back down the crumbling wall to his fellow soldiers and whispered his plan. They would throw a few grenades and hope for the best. There was no way for them to climb the wall quietly enough to bring fire to bear on the Japanese.
And so they did just that. Rodeo had the best arm, so he threw the first grenade, then Philly, and finally Honcho following up with a third grenade.
Three blasts in quick succession followed. Crump, crump, crump. The wall didn’t do much to muffle the blasts, explosions echoing through the alley and shaking loose bits of mortar from above. The mortar pattered on their helmets, the sound as loud as the inside of a drum. Deke wore the bush hat as usual, so the chunks rained down across the brim, though he scarcely noticed because of the terrible ringing in his ears. Those grenades had packed a wallop, that was for sure.
“Go! Go!” Honcho shouted, the need for any kind of quiet gone, and their group swarmed up the pile of bricks, ready for anything, aware that the Japanese were on the other side.
Taking advantage of all the chaos caused by their grenades, not worried about how much noise he was making, Deke led the charge up the broken wall. As he scanned for movement from their vantage point on top of the ruined wall, Deke looked down and saw just what he had hoped for — the torn bodies of Japanese soldiers on the ground. However, there should have been more dead Japanese.
Deke lowered himself down the other side of the wall. Philly was just behind him, and Juana behind him. Honcho and Rodeo stayed on the wall, ready to offer covering fire. So far there hadn’t been any sign of any surviving Japanese.
Deke darted out from behind cover without giving it a second thought, rifle at the ready. He stepped over one of the dead Japanese, the shrapnel from the grenade having eviscerated the man. He didn’t waste time looking, other than to ascertain that the Jap was dead. Deke’s eyes went everywhere at once, looking for targets. It seemed as if the grenades had been grouped a little too close together, the shrapnel missing some of the Japanese patrol. There weren’t enough bodies, and Inaba wasn’t among the dead.
“Where the hell did the rest of them go?” Deke wanted to know. “There were more than three Japs, I can tell you that.”
“Look awake, everybody!” Honcho shouted.
They soon got their answer. The dust shifted as if the rubble was coming alive. Sergeant Inaba suddenly appeared. He and two more Japanese had managed to camouflage themselves in the rubble. Armed with his submachine gun, Inaba sprayed bullets at the American snipers. Deke quickly took aim and was about to fire a shot at Inaba’s chest to bring an end to this episode, when something stung him in the upper arm, above the elbow. That was what it felt like — a sting, as if a hot, metallic hornet had found him. Somewhere in the back of Deke’s mind, he realized that he’d been shot.
He didn’t have time to assess how badly he’d been hit — at any rate, his arm still worked, which turned out to be a good thing. He was going to need it. He swung his rifle up, trying to get it into play against the Japanese sergeant.