Savage Sniper

They must have thought he was just another Japanese soldier. Or maybe they even mistook him for a rice farmer. He was more or less covered in mud, and the glare off the water had provided the rest of the camouflage.

He continued on toward the collection of huts, hoping that there weren’t any more Japanese lurking about. But a quick look around revealed that the huts were empty. A few trappings indicated the huts were normally occupied by farmers — tools and other implements were leaning against the walls. Whoever lived there must had fled in a hurry. In addition to the tools, they had left behind everything from blankets to cookware. The Japanese must have been making use of the huts to escape the sun and weather.

Looking at the tools, Deke got an idea. He picked up a hoe, thought about it, then tied his rifle to the handle, using cordage he found. On top of that, he wound an old piece of blanket. Satisfied, he put the hoe over one shoulder. From a distance, he might look like a farmer out tending his crop, carrying some tools over his shoulder. If push came to shove, he could easily bring his rifle into play. It was what you might call a shooting hoe.

Reluctantly, he left the shade and headed out again, this time following the narrow road through the rice paddies that the half-dozen Japanese troops had taken. Fortunately the enemy soldiers had enough of a head start that they were no longer in sight. Although the road meandered, it provided a high-and-dry route through the rice paddies that seemed to lead directly toward Highway 2. It was exactly the route that Patrol Easy had been sent to find.

But Deke knew they couldn’t send an entire regiment down the road on his hunch. He would have to follow it a bit longer just to make sure that the road through the rice paddies went somewhere.

He looked around uneasily. Each step carried him deeper into Japanese-held territory. Up ahead along the road, he could see another collection of huts. Were there more Japanese sheltering there?

He couldn’t take that chance. He left the dry road behind and moved back into the rice paddies. By now he had left the vast flooded field behind, and there were smaller fields filled with the green shoots of rice, bordered by ditches and levees to help manage the flooding of the fields. He kept the hoe over one shoulder, maintaining his disguise. He swung out into the fields, giving the huts a wide berth and keeping to the western side so that the sun would be more directly in the eyes of anyone watching him.

As he came even with the huts, he saw more Japanese soldiers — a lot more, this time. They appeared to be more organized and better armed. In addition to the helmet-clad soldiers, there was a noncommissioned officer wearing the telltale campaign hat with its sun cape down the back of the neck.

In his experience, it was the sergeants you had to watch out for. They were mean, suspicious bastards.

Deke’s belly clenched. He fought the urge to unbundle his rifle. Once again he had been spotted, and it was too late to hide, so he walked as nonchalantly as possible along a berm, keeping his feet dry. His ruse was helped by the fact that he was barefoot and had rolled up his trousers almost to his knees.

He waved at the enemy soldiers, and again a few waved back. The Japanese sergeant gave Deke a long look, and he forced himself to keep his eyes on the ground, then stopped to swing the hoe at an errant clump of mud, chopping it up. He moved on and hoed another clump.

When he looked up again, he half expected to see a contingent of soldiers rushing toward him or a dozen rifles leveled in his direction. But there were no gunshots. The sergeant was no longer paying any attention to him.

Deke kept going, pausing now and then to hoe at the ground just like a rice farmer might.

He decided that this was one of the few times in the history of war that it was best to be armed with a hoe.

Once he was sure that he was little more than a distant figure and of no more interest to the Japanese, he put the hoe over his shoulder and walked parallel to the road through the rice paddies.

After another fifteen minutes of walking, keeping to the paths between the flooded fields, where the going was easier, he spotted just what he was looking for. It was a larger road winding through the countryside. As he watched, a Japanese truck moved along it. It was the same model that they had captured in the fight near Camp Downes and redirected to bring supplies from the beach. He had reached Highway 2.

He kept moving until he got to higher ground that offered the cover of bushes and trees, then bedded down like a deer to wait out the rest of the day.

His next task would be to return to Patrol Easy and relay word about the route he had found through the rice paddies to Highway 2. Aside from the small contingent of soldiers in the larger collection of huts, there promised to be little standing in the Americans’ way. It was exactly what he had hoped to find out.