The hike back to base was dispiriting.
The clear skies brought not only waves of mosquitoes but waves of Zeros and scout planes as well. Granger feared the Japanese knew his location and were closing in, though he still maintained that a ground assault was unlikely. The enemy had shown little interest in a prolonged fight up the mountain into forbidding territory. What worried Granger, though, was a threat from the air. A few well-aimed bombs could do immeasurable damage. He met daily with his commanders and discussed moving the base, but they were not in favor of it. They were heavily camouflaged. Their supplies and armaments were untouchable in the caves. Moving the base would create too much activity that might be noticed from the air. They were at home and felt as though they could defend anything.
An informant had passed along the news that the Japanese were offering a bounty of $50,000 on the head of Lord Granger, but, typically, he took it as an honor. Rewards of up to $5,000 were offered for the capture of any American officer involved with the resistance.
One afternoon, over a game of cribbage and a cup of tea, Granger handed Pete a small green metal box about the size of a brick but much lighter. At one end there was a dial and a switch. Granger explained, “Called a Lewes bomb, a new toy from a bomb maker in Manila. Inside is a pound of plastic explosive, a quarter pound of thermite, a bit of diesel fuel, and a detonator. The back side is magnetized. Stick it to the side of an airplane near the fuel tank, turn the dial, flip the switch, run like hell, and a few minutes later enjoy the fireworks.”
Pete admired it and set it on the table. “Brilliant.”
“Cooked by a British commando named Jock Lewes in North Africa. Our boys there wiped out entire fleets of Italian and German planes. Bloody good idea if you ask me.”
“And so?”
“And so the Nips have a hundred Zeros at Fort Stotsenburg, the bloody buggers that are tormenting us. I’m thinking about a raid. You know the place well, I take it.”
“Very well. It was the home of the Twenty-Sixth Cavalry. I spent time there before the hostilities.”
“Can it be done, Major? Nips would never see it coming. Dangerous as hell, though.”
“Is this an order?”
“Not yet. Think about it. You and DuBose, forty men. Forty more from a base operating above Stotsenburg. The Lewes bombs can be delivered from Manila to a post near the fort. From here it’s a three-day hike, grueling. I’m thinking that you go prepared for the raid, and have a look. Security is tight, Nips on the ground everywhere. If it’s impossible, back away and don’t get hurt.”
“I like it,” Pete said, still admiring the Lewes bomb.
“We’ve got maps, the layout and all. Plenty of intelligence on the ground. You’ll be in command, it’s all yours. And you probably won’t come back.”
“When do we leave?”
“Are you strong enough, what with the shivers and all?”
“We’ve all got the fevers, but I’m recovering.”
“Are you sure? It’s not an order and you can say no. As you know, I don’t order suicide missions.”
“We’ll be back, I promise. Plus, I’m bored.”
“Jolly good, Major. Jolly good.”
They left at dark, with DuBose and D Troop half an hour behind. They hiked for ten hours and stopped at dawn above a village. They rested throughout the day and noticed several Japanese patrols moving through the area. At dark, they moved on. The mountains turned to hills and vegetation thinned. At dawn of the third day, they topped a rise and Fort Stotsenburg was before them, about a mile away in the center of a sweeping plain.
From his position, Pete took in the vastness of his old fort. Before the war, it had housed not only the Twenty-Sixth Cavalry Regiment but also four artillery regiments, two American and two Filipino, along with the Twelfth Quartermaster Regiment. The rows of barracks housed eight thousand soldiers. The stately gateposts at the front entrance were visible. Between two long runways were dozens of buildings once used by good guys and now bustling with the enemy. Behind them were the wide parade grounds where Pete had played polo, but the moment did not allow nostalgia. Parked in neat rows along the runways were more Zeros than he could count, along with twenty or so two-seated fighters the Allies called Nicks. There was no wall around the fort, no fencing or barbed-wire barriers. Just thousands of Japs going about their business. Troops drilled on the parade grounds while Zeros took off and landed.
The runners led them to an advance post where they met a squad led by Captain Miller, a baby-faced enlisted man from Minnesota. His squad had ten men, all Filipinos, and they knew the area well. Miller was waiting on another squad that was supposed to have arrived the day before. At the post, the men huddled over maps, and waited. At midnight, when the fort was quiet, Pete, DuBose, and Miller crept closer to it and spent the rest of the night circling the area. They returned at dawn, exhausted but with a plan.
The shipment of Lewes bombs did not arrive as scheduled, and they waited two days for word from Manila. They also waited on the other guerrillas Granger had promised, but they did not materialize. Pete worried that they had been captured and the entire mission had been compromised. In all, he had fifty-five men available for some mischief. By the third day at the post food was running low and the men were becoming irritable. Major Banning scolded them and maintained discipline.
The Lewes bombs finally arrived on the backs of three mules led by teenage boys, skinny kids who would hardly raise suspicions. Again, Pete marveled at Granger’s network.
The fort was outside Angeles City, a sprawling town of 100,000, with plenty of bars and brothels to keep the Japanese officers entertained. The raid began at one in the morning with a carjacking when two drunken captains staggered out of a nightclub and headed to their sedan for the ride back to the fort. Three Filipino guerrillas posing as local peasants slit their throats in an alley, stripped off their uniforms, and changed clothes. They fired three shots as a signal, then ten minutes later drove the car past the sentries at the front gate of Fort Stotsenburg. Once inside, they parked the car in front of the commander’s residence and disappeared into the darkness. Three Lewes bombs were stuck to the car’s undercarriage, and the explosion disrupted the peaceful night. Guerrillas hiding behind the gymnasium began firing into the air, and the guards panicked.
The airplanes were watched closely at night by sentries. At the sound of the explosion and wild gunfire, they broke ranks and began running in the direction of the commotion. Major Banning swept in from the north, DuBose from the east, Miller from the west. They gunned down every sentry in sight, then quickly began sticking the Lewes bombs to the underside of eighty of the hated Zeros. In the darkness, the precious little bombs were not visible.
As they backed away, Don Bowmore, a brawler from Philly, caught a bullet in the head. He was near Pete, who quickly dropped the sentry and grabbed his pal. Camacho helped him drag Bowmore a hundred yards to cover, but he had died instantly. When it was apparent he was dead, and couldn’t talk, Pete decided to leave his body. The code of the jungle did not allow the dead to be retrieved. Guerrillas relied too much on speed. Pete took Bowmore’s rifle and handed it to Camacho. From his holster he grabbed his Colt .45, one he would use for the rest of the war and carry with him back to Mississippi.
Within minutes, the guerrillas retreated into the darkness as lights and sirens came on and hundreds of spooked Japanese soldiers scurried about in a frenzy. Most gathered in the vicinity of the burning car and waited for orders. The dazed officers barked conflicting commands and pointed here and there. The shooting had stopped. The sentries finally convinced the officers that the planes were targeted, with something. Patrols were organized to search the planes, but the fireworks began.