Littleton picked up the guard’s rifle. Clearly, it wasn’t his first time holding a weapon. He no longer looked so tired or defeated. It was amazing how holding a rifle gave a man hope and power over his destiny.
“Let’s go,” MacGregor said.
He started toward the stairs, his plan being to lead them down, but just as quickly he realized that wasn’t going to work.
They could hear the Japanese on the stairs below, sounding as if they were coming up, maybe hauling ammunition to the machine gunner on the roof — or coming to finish off the prisoners. MacGregor glanced down and spotted Sergeant Inaba coming up the stairs.
The only way to go now was up. “Follow me!” he said.
He didn’t have a plan. Maybe, just maybe, they could overpower the machine gunners and barricade themselves up there, hoping that the Americans could finally somehow overwhelm the Japanese defenses.
They ran up the stairs, MacGregor taking the steps two at a time, the group getting spread out because some of them were weak from the lack of food and water.
There was a shout from below — they had been spotted. A bullet cracked up the stairwell, then another. Littleton fired back and, judging by the shout of pain that followed, had managed to hit one of their pursuers, buying them precious minutes.
MacGregor’s long legs quickened the pace, taking the stairs three at a time.
More shots came from below.
Deke and Philly needed to improvise, now that their plan to get around behind the legislative building had been blocked by the Japanese outpost.
Deke looked around and saw the bank building where the patrol had found cover yesterday. An idea began to take shape. Without any sort of heavy weapons, they would have to do what snipers did best — pick off Japs. There was no time to waste. He looked over toward the rest of the patrol, who were being kept pinned down by the relentless fire from the Nambu machine gun on the roof of the legislative building. The machine gunners had gotten smart and piled up more sandbags, making them a difficult target from ground level in the square. If he and Philly could take out that machine gun, the rest of Patrol Easy might just have a fighting chance. To do that, they were going to have to get up higher.
“Come on,” Deke said. “Let’s get up on the roof of that bank building.”
Philly had also seen that the chances of their original plan working had fallen apart. He nodded, seeming to have read Deke’s mind. “If we can get up there, it’s gonna be like a shooting gallery for us.”
“That’s the idea.”
They scurried away through the rubble, shots chasing them. Some of the Japanese jeered, evidently thinking that Deke and Philly had turned tail and run — which in a sense they had. However, Deke was a strong believer in living to fight another day. The Japs think they’ve got us licked, but we’ll see about that.
Reaching the front door of the bank building, they scrambled inside. El Banco de Manila featured a grand lobby with marble floors, tall Doric columns holding up the vaulted roof, and gleaming counters of polished wood with glass partitions separating the well-dressed clerks from the even-better-dressed customers. Tall windows, covered in ornately wrought iron bars that provided both security and beauty, filled the lobby with the sort of sunlight that encouraged scrutiny. Normally it was the sort of setting where Deke never would have felt comfortable in a million years. But now it was a war zone.
The marble floor was strewn with dust and broken glass from windows shattered by bomb blasts, though the ironwork remained. Birds flitted under the tall ceiling and had even begun to nest at the tops of the columns. Nature asserting itself where humankind had faltered. A puddle of congealed blood spread across one corner, evidence that someone had died there, and badly.
He had to admit that the sight of the ruined bank lobby didn’t make him feel sad. He hated bankers. After all, it had been a greedy banker who had foreclosed on their family farm at the rat-tail end of the Great Depression, just before the war. This place was far grander than the local bank that had stolen the Cole family’s land — which meant the bankers here were likely that much greedier.
“This place has seen better days, that’s for sure,” Philly said.
“Maybe there was a run on the bank,” Deke said.
“I’ll say. Hey, I wonder if there’s still any money in the bank vault? If we had a grenade—”
“Come on,” Deke said. “There’s no time for that. Let’s find the stairs and get up to the roof.”
They started toward the rear of the lobby. Outside, they could hear the firing as Patrol Easy took on the Japanese. However, Deke heard another sound — boots crunching on glass. He froze, then signaled Philly to do the same.
“What?” Philly whispered.
As if to answer his question, the sound of footsteps came more clearly now. Then they heard the guttural sound of Japanese speaking among themselves. Someone kicked something across the floor, making it hop and bounce. One of the soldiers laughed. Judging from the sounds, it was a small band of Japanese, maybe three or four men. Deke realized that the enemy soldiers were also headed for the stairs. The sons of bitches probably had the same plan that he and Philly did, which was to get to the roof for the commanding view that it offered. If the Japs got up there, Patrol Easy wouldn’t stand a chance. They would be sitting ducks, picked off from both directions.
Deke and Philly spread out, moving as quietly as they could across the broken glass on the floor, both finding cover behind the tall stone columns. Deke pressed his rifle against the cold, hard stone and waited.
The Japanese soldiers rounded a corner and came into sight. There were three of them, moving quickly, weapons at the ready. Maybe Deke and Philly hadn’t been as quiet as they had hoped and the sound of crunching glass had given them away.
Deke fired at the soldier on the left. Inside the confines of the lobby, there was a distinct sound of the bullet hitting flesh and bone. The soldier went down. Philly’s rifle cracked and dropped the soldier on the right. That left the man in the middle, who managed to get off a wild shot that ricocheted off the column that Deke was taking cover behind.
Deke worked the bolt and shot him, Philly’s bullet coming in a split second later. Hit twice, the Japanese soldier went down. They waited a moment, just to make sure no Japanese had been lagging behind.
“Coast is clear,” Deke said. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Philly said.
They scrambled toward the stairs, which were broad and marble, leading to offices on the second floor. There was less destruction here, and they moved easily up the stairs. To their relief, there didn’t seem to be any more Japanese soldiers. The stairs grew narrower as they climbed from floor to floor, away from the public eye, finally ending in a utilitarian set of wooden steps that led to a hatch in the roof. They climbed out onto the roof, keeping low, not wanting to attract any attention in case enemy eyes were watching. Again, they were glad not to run into more enemy soldiers up here.
“Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” Deke said.
“Fine by me,” Philly replied.
It turned out that the roof had a slight pitch to it, with acres of copper sheeting coated heavily in tar to keep the rain out. It wasn’t the easiest surface to cross, and already the sun was making the black tar and metal surfaces unpleasantly hot. But that might be the least of their worries if the Japanese caught sight of them before they were in position. One burst from that Nambu might sweep them right off the roof.
Crouching, they ran around to the front of the roof that overlooked the square and the legislative building on the other side. Although the buildings were similar in height, the steeper roof of the bank building gave it an advantage, adding a few precious feet of elevation. This made all the difference because they could look down on the roof of the legislative building — giving Deke a clear shot at the machine gunner.