But as the target sprang closer through the telescopic sight, he could see that something wasn’t right. The two figures were tangled together like lovers. When he looked closer, he saw the staring eyes and bloated skin of corpses that had been dead for at least a day.
These were Japanese, all right, probably killed in the shelling that had been done to soften up the area. Their comrades had either left them behind or the two men had simply been forgotten. Flies covered the dead like they always did, giving the soldiers the unsettling appearance that they were moving. Deke just hoped to hell that if he got killed, somebody would bury him before he got covered in flies like that. The ants, too, had gone to work on the bodies. Nature was relentless here, offering the dead no dignity. The dead simply provided a feast for all the creepy-crawlies of these hilly jungles.
“What is it?” Honcho asked, coming up beside him.
“I damn near shot them just for good measure. Just dead Japs,” Deke said.
Honcho touched his shoulder reassuringly. “All right, let’s keep going,” he said.
Deke skirted the clearing, keeping an eye out for any trip wires or booby traps. One of the new guys approached the bodies as if to look them over for souvenirs, which was always a popular pastime.
“Don’t even think about it,” the lieutenant warned. “For all we know, those dead Nips are lying on top of a couple of grenades.”
The GI had gotten close enough to disturb the flies, which swarmed up around the Americans.
“Damn it,” Philly said, wiping at his face. “These flies were just licking dead Japs a second ago. Now they’re licking me. I hope to hell they don’t think I taste better.” He picked up the pace to follow Deke away from the clearing and back into the forest trail. The smell of death subsided behind them. “Do you think somebody already counted these dead guys?”
All the men knew that emphasis had been placed on counting the number of dead. HQ constantly demanded updates.
“Yeah, we’ll add them to the total. You know how the brass is about these reports,” Deke replied.
Toward the top of the hill, the crest was honeycombed with trenches and small caves. Lucky for them, the ground had been plowed by the artillery bombardment, clearing out the enemy. A few more dead Japanese sprawled in the trenches. One of them had been impaled on the shattered trunk of a sapling, his limbs now hanging stiffly down. It was a gruesome sight, but at least it seemed to indicate that the area was cleared of Japanese.
Suddenly a shot rang out, and one of the new guys dropped as if he’d been felled by an ax. He was dead as soon as he hit the ground. Everybody else dove for cover in the bottoms of the muddy trenches.
“Sniper!” one of the new guys yelled.
The warning was understandable but unnecessary. The problem was that every damn Japanese was a sniper, and every damn GI was a target. Another shot whipped overhead, and then another.
“Where the hell are they?” Philly shouted.
“Who’s got eyes on these damn Nips?” Deke said.
He had eased his rifle over the lip of the trench, resting it on a log. Movement caught his eye, and he saw the outline of a Japanese helmet. When he looked closer, he could also see that the Japanese soldier held a rifle. Deke lined up his sights on the enemy soldier and squeezed the trigger. The firing fell silent.
“Nice shot, hillbilly. That’s one down,” Philly said.
When there were no other shots, the soldiers slowly emerged from the trenches. Philly looked down at the dead guy. “Anybody know his name?”
“I think that was Carlson,” Yoshio offered.
“Anybody know his first name?”
Nobody did.
“Doesn’t matter,” Philly said. “Now it’s Carlson’s Ridge.”
The thought didn’t cheer anyone up. Then came another flurry of shots. This wasn’t a lone sniper this time, but a squad of Japanese who had come into sight, retreating down a long ditch that had been cut into the hillside. Every soldier in Patrol Easy brought his weapon into play, firing at the enemy. Several Japanese dropped immediately, but the reminder were still shooting at Patrol Easy as they ran.
Honcho surprised them by jumping out of the ditch and running straight at the Japanese, screaming like a madman and firing his shotgun as he went. The Japanese scattered before his onslaught like leaves before a windstorm. A couple of men stood their ground and were promptly cut down by shotgun blasts. Deke fired and took out a third soldier.
While the lieutenant was busy reloading the shotgun, the rest of Patrol Easy followed, shouting as they ran.
They kept running, firing wildly as they followed Honcho’s lead, racing after the fleeing Japanese. Not all the Japanese were intent on escaping. Some turned to fire at the Americans. Behind him, Deke heard another man cry out as he was hit, but there was no time to stop. The men shouted with a mad rage, amplified by the knowledge that the Japanese had drawn blood.
