by Chris Glatte
Finally, Felipe trotted up and assembled the large group of fighters. They formed loose rows and tried to look as militarily crisp as possible, but their non-matching, filthy clothes made it difficult.
Major Cruz appeared and she had to yell to be heard. “The Americans are meeting resistance and it will only increase the deeper they penetrate. Colonel Cushing has asked me for volunteers to act as guides for the Americans.” Every hand in the group went up instantly. Her smile seemed to fill most of her face, and Sam thought she looked beautiful. He wondered how he’d failed to notice her beauty when he was a student. “We only need thirty volunteers.” Hands went up higher some waving, vying for her attention. “The first row will go.” Those in the first row cheered and trotted forward, unslinging their weapons from their shoulders.
Sam was in the second row and felt tears well up. He shook his head. Warriors don’t cry. I’m a warrior.
Major Cruz felt the let-down of the remaining fighters. “This is not the end of the fight. The Japanese are not defeated on this island and certainly not the Philippines. You will have many more opportunities to fight.” She flashed the ‘V’ for victory sign and the fighters cheered.
Sam felt dejected despite Major Cruz’s assurances. He yearned to fight and fighting alongside the Americans would be a dream come true. They’d been kicking the Japanese like dogs for years. He could learn a lot from them.
Two hours later Felipe came running into the building Sam was dozing in. He found Sam and kicked his prostate body. “Get up. You’re needed at the front.”
Sam was up like a flash. He grabbed his rifle and trotted behind Felipe into the evening light. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What’s happened?”
Continuing to trot, Felipe panted, “Juan Chavez was killed by a sniper. You’ll be his replacement.”
The news sobered him and he felt a flash of fear. He wanted to fight more than anything, but what would keep him from the same fate as Juan; a far more experienced fighter?
Felipe noticed Sam’s pace slowed a fraction. “Having second thoughts?”
His tone angered Sam and he lashed out. “Course not. Juan was a good man. He’ll be missed.”
“Indeed.”
Sam followed Felipe through the holes the tanks had left. They kept to the sides of the street, weaving in and out of cover. Soon Sam heard the rumble of idling tanks. Felipe looked back at him. “The Americans are just ahead. The streets were too narrow for their tanks.”
They ran a few more blocks then came up on a group of American soldiers. They were sitting with their backs against building walls, sipping water. Sam saw a few Filipinos amongst them. He recognized them from the work camp.
Felipe trotted up to a group of soldiers. A red-haired GI with stripes on his shoulders greeted them. “Felipe, you’ve returned.”
Felipe nodded and indicated Sam. “Your new guide. He knows the city well. Sam, this is Sergeant O’Connor.”
Sam snapped off what he hoped was a snappy salute. O’Connor reached out and pulled his hand down. “Don’t salute out here, boy. Jap snipers will think I’m an officer and put a bullet through my head.” Sam was embarrassed and lowered his gaze. O’Connor addressed Felipe. “Christ almighty. He’s just a kid. You sure he knows what he’s doing?”
Sam looked up and balled his fists. Before Felipe could answer, Sam seethed, “I know what I’m doing, Sergeant. I know the city.”
Felipe backed him up. “He fought well all night. A real tiger.” He slapped Sam’s back.
O’Connor nodded. “Okay. Take it easy, kid.” He pointed to his men. “We’re awaiting orders to advance. This first block was well defended, slowed us down a bit. We’re waiting for the rest of the company to move up, maybe get the tanks involved.” He pointed down the debris filled street. “We took care of the sniper that killed Juan, but we can expect more of that shit. We have men in the next two buildings. They haven’t run into anything more than snipers. Seems like the Japs have pulled back. Can you think of someplace they might be holed up?”
Felipe rubbed his chin. Sam nodded. “The plaza. It’s in the center of this district. If they occupied the buildings on the far side, there’s an open space you’d have to cross.”
Felipe nodded confirming Sam’s idea. “Yes, it would be a likely spot for a last stand.”
O’Connor asked, “How far?”
“Two kilometers or less.”
“Okay. You’ll lead us there. We’ll be moving forward within the hour. Make sure you have enough ammo.”
Sam nodded, “I’m ready when you are, Sergeant.”
An hour later Able Company moved forward through the deserted streets. The going was slow, having to clear each block. They didn’t run into any more snipers and resistance was light.
Sam was ordered to stay near the back and give any advice on their movement through the city. He felt useless. He wasn’t able to give the Americans any advice. There was nothing to do but move from building to building. He felt confident they’d find the Japanese at the plaza. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with something that would help the GIs, but there was nothing to do but advance until they found the Japanese.
When they were a block from the plaza, Sam moved forward and found Sergeant O’Connor. He liked the American even though he knew he thought of Sam as a child. “The plaza is just ahead.”
O’Connor waved his men forward and they leapfrogged through the buildings and streets, covering one another as they went. The rest of the company was spread out to either side, advancing carefully. Occasionally there’d be a shot, but nothing sustained.
Sam stayed on O’Connor’s tail as he moved forward. They stopped at the entrance to the plaza. In the center, there was a fountain which hadn’t seen water since the Japanese arrived. The space was wide and long. It looked like it used to be a park. There were play structures and sculptures which were overgrown with grass and vines. The jungle was slowly reclaiming the area. They crouched in a doorway. Sam pointed across the park. “Those buildings.”
O’Connor nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I’d set up.” He studied the far building’s windows. He couldn’t see any obvious signs of Japanese, but he figured they were there.
A runner from Platoon Sergeant Carver’s squad sprinted across the street and slid in beside O’Connor and Sam. O’Connor scooted into the back of the doorway. “What you got, Perkins?”
“The rest of the company is spread along this line. The flanks are going to move through the buildings surrounding the plaza. You’re to stay here and provide cover. The tanks are maneuvering through the streets along the edge of the district with the help of the Filipino guides, but they won’t be here for another half hour. Captain Flannigan doesn’t wanna wait.”
O’Connor licked his lips and nodded. “Okay, got it.” Private Perkins ran across the street zigzagging all the way. O’Connor signaled the men watching him. They moved to find better cover and spots to shoot from.
O’Connor looked at the door behind him. He moved Sam aside and tried the handle, but it was locked. “Move back.” He kicked the door at the handle level and it splintered. He moved into the building. It looked like an apartment. There was a bed, and a kitchen with a rusted sink.
A flight of stairs led up to the second floor and he was about to move to it when Sam grabbed his arm and held him. O’Connor shook him off and glared. Sam pointed. “Trap.”
Two more GIs entered the building and crouched. They swept the room with their carbines. O’Connor studied the stairwell and saw the odd-looking pile of wood on the second step. It looked out of place, like it had been put there intentionally. He signaled for the men to move behind cover. He lifted his carbine to his shoulder and sighted in. He fired and pulled his head behind the corner. The stack of wood toppled and there was a dull thud of something heavy falling to the first step. The grenade blast reverberated in the enclosed space and made Sam’s ears ring. Dust and debris filled the room.
O’Connor clutch
ed the nearest GI. “Warn the others to look for booby traps.” The GI nodded and sprinted out the door.
Another blast from the building across the street made them flinch. The screaming that followed, told them the warning came too late. O’Connor cursed, “Shit!” O’Connor stared into Sam’s wide eyes and nodded. He didn’t speak but Sam knew he was thanking him for saving his life. Sam tried to keep stoic and hard, but he couldn’t keep the smile from spreading. “How’d you know?”
Sam swallowed against a dry throat. “We saw many of them last night.”
Firing erupted from the buildings to their left. O’Connor walked up the shredded, smoking stairwell, looking for more booby traps. The second floor was empty except for a wooden chair. There was a blown-out window facing the plaza. A flower box hung from the outside of the window and weeds draped from it like green hair.
O’Connor moved to the side of the window, careful to stay hidden. He peered across the plaza at the far buildings. He saw flashes of movement in the windows. There was more firing from the adjacent buildings. The intensity, told him the rest of the company was meeting stiff resistance. He yelled, “Open fire!”
The GIs didn’t need coaxing. M1s and .30 caliber machine guns opened up and the buildings across the plaza sparked and large chunks of plaster and wood splintered and tore. O’Connor leaned out his window and poured fire into the window seventy-five yards away.
Sam flinched at the roar of all the weapons. He was impressed with the sheer volume of fire the Americans were able to bring. He wanted to fire, but there was only one window and not enough room for both of them. He dove to the ground when he heard the buzzing of bullets smacking into the walls. A large chunk of wall behind him cascaded down. More bullets lanced into the room. He covered his head and moved to the back. O’Connor was on the ground too, holding his helmet.
The M1s and machine guns continued firing, not giving up the advantage. The intensity of enemy fire slowly diminished. The room was filled with dust and O’Connor choked and coughed. Sam shuffled to his side. “Are you injured, sir?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Staying low, he ran to the stairs and went to the first floor. Private Gilson was at the side door, leaning out firing his M1. O’Connor tapped his shoulder and spoke into his ear. “Find Vincent and Pullman. We need the bazooka on the top floor. If you see Craig, have him put grenades into the buildings directly across.” Gilson nodded and fired again, then ran into the street. O’Connor watched him zigzagging his way to the next block. Geysers of dirt spouted up behind him. He dove into the recessed doorway across the street. He flashed O’Connor a thumb up and went into the building.
O’Connor went back up the stairs. The volume of fire had dropped off considerably. The .30 calibers kept hammering away in short bursts and rifle fire continued. The firing from the adjacent buildings had also subsided. O’Connor wondered about their progress. He knew Platoon Sergeant Carver was leading the left flanking maneuver. Hope that love struck son-of-a-bitch is keeping his head in the game.
An image of Major Cruz filled his mind. He wondered if she was safe. The thought of her injured or dead made him reel and he shook his head. What the hell’s the matter with me? I haven’t spoken two words with her. No matter how he scolded himself, he couldn’t shake her image. There was something about her, something about the fleeting look they shared that made him care.
The clatter of GIs scrambling up the stairs pulled him from his thoughts. Private Pullman and Vincent entered the room. Vincent was leading, holding his stovepipe and grinning. “You called?”
There was an explosion at the base of the building across the plaza and O’Connor realized Gilson had found Craig and he was arcing rifle grenades where he’d directed.
“Stay down.” O’Connor pointed through the window. “Think you can put a couple shells through that far window? The second from the right in the building directly across.”
Vincent put the bazooka on the floor and looked at the target. There was a muzzle flash. He ducked but the bullet wasn’t aimed at him. He grinned. “Does Betty Grable need chest support?” he answered his own question, “Hell yes.” Sam stared at the duo as Vincent aimed, and Pullman loaded.
O’Connor noticed Sam’s confusion. “Betty Grable has big tits.” He pretended to bounce imaginary breasts.
Sam’s confusion turned to an embarrassed smile and he repeated the word several times. “Tits.”
His accented English made the soldiers grin. Pullman slapped Vincent’s helmet and stepped to the side. He checked behind and motioned for Sam to move. “Don’t wanna get your tits blown off.” Sam looked confused again but moved. O’Connor moved back and Pullman said, “You’re all clear.”
Vincent was in a crouch, several yards back from the window frame. He found the window across the plaza and steadied his reticle just above and to the right. He blew out his breath and applied gentle pressure to the trigger. The whoosh surprised them all, despite knowing it was coming.
The rocket shot out the window and trailed a thin trail of white smoke. O’Connor watched it slam into the side of the window frame and explode. The explosion was small, but the effect was dramatic. Part of the wall broke away and crashed to the ground in a flurry of dust. Vincent cussed. “Dammit, load me again. I’ll get it this time.”
O’Connor shook his head. “No, get down the stairs, now!” He pushed Vincent to move and they ran down the stairs as bullets poured through the window. They took cover in the stairwell. Bullets smacked and thudded into the walls. The intensity of the .30 calibers increased, trying to suppress the Japanese. They stayed in the stairwell until the firing died down.
Private Gilson poked his head around the corner. “You guys alright?”
O’Connor nodded. “There’s still a bunch of ‘em over there.” Gilson spit a dark stream of tobacco juice onto the wall and nodded.
Private Vincent spoke up, “I can get my next shot through that window.”
O’Connor shook his head. “I need to know what’s happening with the assault. Don’t wanna fire on our own troops. Besides, you hit the target. That little piece of real-estate’s unusable.”
O’Connor moved to the doorway and watched his men continuing to pour fire across the plaza. The fountain was pockmarked with countless bullet impacts. He wondered when they’d be ordered to cross the deadly expanse.
His two-man .30 caliber machine gun crew was laying down behind a pile of rubble, the tripod perched amongst the debris. They were hammering out short bursts. O’Connor figured they were probably due for a barrel change out.
80
General Manjome wasn’t happy with his current situation. The Filipino resistance had completely surprised him with their ferocity the night before. His troops were scattered, and in an effort to consolidate his remaining soldiers, he’d been forced to retreat to the far corner of the cursed city. Now his two thousand remaining soldiers were packed into a city block. The Americans had finally shown up and were threatening to overwhelm him.
“Captain Ito!” he yelled.
A thin officer with prominent cheek-bones appeared and went ramrod straight. “Sir.”
“We need to keep the Americans off us while we move to our bunker positions in the jungle. The Americans will bomb us at any moment. We’ll be slaughtered. If we get to the bunkers we’ll be able to hold them off indefinitely.” Captain Ito knew their situation and nodded. The general continued. “We need a diversion.” He stared hard at his Captain. He’d served him well for many years and he respected his fighting spirit. “Choose a junior Lieutenant to lead an attack across the courtyard. We’ll escape out the back before the Americans seal it off.”
Captain Ito nodded his understanding and said, “Hai. I’ll send Lieutenant Sato.” The General nodded and Captain Ito went to find his lieutenant.
Captain Ito found Lieutenant Sato in the bottom floor of the centermost building. He had his submachine gun aimed and fired off a short burst. Captain Ito crouched and entered the roo
m. The troops stiffened when they saw the officer in their midst. They weren’t the hardened fighters he’d fought alongside for so many years. Those soldiers had been sent to defend Leyte weeks before. These soldiers were leftovers, but they’d served him well. He wondered if last nights debacle would have happened if he still had his veterans.
There was no use wondering, it hadn’t happened that way. These men, had fought well, doing the best they could. Lieutenant Sato was the reason many of the men were still alive. He’d kept his company together and fought the damned natives well, making them bleed for their betrayal. Now he’d sacrifice himself and his men for the greater good of what was left of the division.
“Lieutenant Sato.” The stocky Lieutenant stopped firing and looked over his shoulder. Keeping low he trotted to the doorway Captain Ito peered from. Captain Ito moved into the hallway, out of the direct path of bullets. He waved his underling to follow and went through another room. When they were both inside he shut the flimsy door. Lieutenant Sato saluted and he saluted back. “General Manjome is moving the rest of the division back to the prepared bunkers before the Americans succeed in encircling us here.”
Lieutenant Sato nodded. “Good. We wouldn’t last long here. I’ll ready the men.”
Captain Ito shook his head. “You and your platoons will stay here and keep the Americans occupied.” Lieutenant Sato’s eyes hardened and he looked the captain in the eyes. “General Manjome has ordered you to lead your men across the plaza. You’re to attack the Americans.”
Lieutenant Sato nodded his head then bowed. “It will be an honor, sir.”
Captain Ito lifted his chin and looked down at the diminutive soldier. “You do me, General Manjome, and the entire Empire of Japan great honor.”