The night with Juana had renewed something deep within him. His eyes glinted as he bent to blow out the candle and then reached for his rifle. Deke’s sense of determination had returned stronger than ever.
He decided that Juana was right. The fight would end today, one way or another.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun rose on another hot and muggy morning. Instead of the promise of a new day, the rising sun revealed a city that was a battleground. In the distance, they heard scattered gun shots and the boom of artillery like the thunder of an approaching storm. Normally, birds would have greeted the new morning, even in the city, but their singing among the shattered trees had either been drowned out by the sounds of war or the winged songsters had done the smart thing and fled.
Patrol Easy had been surprised by the arrival of a messenger from headquarters. He was a slight young man, a real bantamweight built for speed and stealth, the perfect candidate for messenger duty, or what in army slang was called a “carrier pigeon.” He had come to remind them about the looming deadline for the artillery barrage to resume. The colonel hadn’t bothered with a written message, considering that what he had to relay was short and to the point.
“The colonel says you’ve got two hours. He says that after that, he’s going to open fire no matter what.”
“All right, we’ll take what we can get,” Lieutenant Steele said. “Did you run into any Japs getting here?”
Helmets were all the same size, and the runner’s seemed far too big for his head to the point that only his nose, the whites of his eyes, and his bright white teeth were visible from the hidden depths under the helmet brim. “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t, but dead men tell no tales,” the messenger said with a grin, brandishing his carbine. Then he slipped out the door and was gone.
Philly watched him go. “Do me a favor, Corn Pone. Next time I complain about anything, remind me that I could be a carrier pigeon instead.”
“Aw, you’d complain even if you got hanged with a new rope.”
“Sounds about right.”
Deke stepped outside the house where Patrol Easy had sheltered for the night and took a deep breath. The damp morning air smelled of dust, rotting vegetation, and the faint hint of bodies decomposing in the ruins. He longed for the clean smell of mountain air, redolent of green leaves and high-country meadows, or at the very least, the earthy aroma of freshly plowed fields. The mountains were what he yearned for, but battle-torn Manila was what he had.
He turned to the wall and relieved himself. The smell of warm urine mixed with the other pungent smells of the ruined city. The boy, Roddy, sat on a chunk of stone in the morning sun and gnawed at one of the chalky tropical chocolate bars, using both hands in a way that reminded Deke of a chipmunk attacking an acorn. Danilo came out, leaned against the wall just beyond spattering distance, and lit a cigarette, oblivious as the contents of Deke’s bladder streamed down the wall and puddled in the dust. Rodeo was relieving himself nearby, all of them so used to living in proximity that they didn’t give bodily functions a second thought. Besides that, wandering off to relieve yourself might put you in enemy crosshairs.
Deke realized that was something else he missed — privacy. The only real private space a soldier had was between his ears.
He buttoned up his khaki trousers and turned to find Juana offering him a hot cup of coffee, something of a miracle in these circumstances, but Juana and the other guerrillas were always resourceful. They had built a tiny, smokeless fire under the portico of the grand house.
He gave her a grateful nod, and she gave him a shy smile in return, which Deke answered just as bashfully. He found it funny — neither one of them had been all that shy last night. This morning, returning to the reality of a war zone, last night seemed like a dream. Had it actually happened? He realized that Juana’s smile was all the proof he needed.
For the others, it probably hadn’t been any secret what he and Juana had been up to off by themselves. Nobody said a word about it, except for Philly, who gave him a smirk and said, “I guess you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Something in Deke’s eyes wiped the smirk off Philly’s face. “Uh, nothing,” Philly said. “Forget I said anything.”
“That’s what I thought.” Deke sipped his coffee and added, “You know I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”
Philly grinned. “Unlike me, you mean?”
“If the shoe fits.”
Deke sipped more coffee, watching as Juana delivered another cup of java to Lieutenant Steele and then to Captain Oatmire. Honcho looked more tired than any of them, every last one of his years showing. Maybe it was Deke’s imagination, but he could have sworn that when Honcho took off his helmet, there was yet more gray hair.
Although he found it hard to take his eyes off Juana, this wasn’t the time to dwell on what had happened last night, wonderful as it had been. Today, Deke knew that they had to get the hostages out. They were out of time because the artillery barrage was set to begin again. It was now or never.
And Deke finally had a plan.
But he was going to need a little help. This wasn’t something that he’d be able to do alone. He approached the lieutenant and told him as much. Still looking tired, Honcho nodded. “All right, let’s hear it.”
Deke made his way to the center of the group as all eyes turned to him.
“Gather round, y’all,” he said. “I think I’ve got an idea to outfox these Japs.”
“This I’ve got to hear,” Philly said. “Although I’d much rather hear about last night.”
“Watch it, city boy.”
“Who, me? What did I say?” he asked innocently.
Honcho interrupted before things could get ugly. “All right, Deke. That’s enough suspense. Let’s hear about this plan of yours.”
Lieutenant Steele was more than willing to hear him out. What Deke proposed was simple enough. He wanted the patrol to make a frontal attack, but more as a diversion. Meanwhile, he and Philly would slip away and come at the legislative building from the side, hopefully taking out the machine gunners again. Once that machine gun was knocked out, it would clear the way for Patrol Easy and the Filipinos to advance. Deke and Philly would continue to pick off any Japanese they could get in their sights.
If they got Sergeant Inaba or Major Tanigawa in their sights, so much the better. But that was almost too much to hope for. If he wanted to find Inaba or Tanigawa, he might have to go looking for them.
With that in mind, he continued to explain his plan to the others.
“Meanwhile, we’ll be working our way around to the back of the building,” Deke added. “When we went that way searching for the boy, we saw what it looked like back there. There’s a kind of alley and lots of doors and windows. The Japanese can’t have blocked them all, and they don’t have enough men to watch every inch of the place. Also, we know that they’re using at least one of those back doors to leave the building to go out on patrol. They’ll be worried about the attack out front. We might have a shot at getting inside and then finding those prisoners to get them out.”
“In other words, a two-pronged attack. Knock on the front door, and meanwhile go in the back,” Honcho said. He thought it over, then nodded. “It could work. All right, then, let’s saddle up and get it done.”
It was a bold plan, considering that the Japanese holdouts outnumbered them. The key would be taking out that machine gun. Deke was going to need to get in position to take the shot, and he’d require not a little bit of luck along with it.
“There are a lot more of them than us,” Philly said.
“When has that ever stopped us?” Deke pointed out.
They gathered their gear and prepared to get going. The sun was rising higher above the city skyline, the heat of the day already growing. A haze of smoke and dust turned the sun bloodred. Although it was the cooler season in the Philippines, it promised to be another warm and muggy day with enough humidity to make you feel as if you had just stepped out of a shower. Off to the west, a few dark clouds were already building, threatening a downpour later in the day.
The only one who didn’t have a role that morning seemed to be the kid, Roddy. He was moping around like a lost puppy. They couldn’t send him home, not through a dangerous war zone, but they couldn’t simply abandon him here with bands of Japanese soldiers on a killing spree, targeting any civilians they found. From the bodies they had seen among the ruins, they knew that the Japanese had no qualms about killing children.
“Stick with me, kid,” Honcho said. “When the shooting starts, I’ll want you to hang back.”
“Give me a gun,” the boy said. “I can fight.”
“I know you can,” the lieutenant said. “I like your spirit, kid. But what I really need you to do is carry our canteens. We’ll be no good today without water.”
Roddy nodded glumly, apparently not thrilled with the idea of being a water boy. “Yes, sir.”
However, Honcho wasn’t done assigning him duties. “Also, you are going to help us by watching our rear and making sure no Japanese sneak up on us.”
“Really?” Robby seemed to understand the importance of what he was being asked to do, gun or no gun. He nodded somberly. “Yes, sir. I can do that.”
“You be ready — give a shout at the first sign of any Japanese. But keep your head down and stay out of sight. With any luck, we’ll get your dad back today. I sure as hell don’t want to tell him that his son stuck his head up and got himself killed.”
The boy seemed glad enough to do his part, smiling and squaring his shoulders, pulling himself up to his full height. He was ready to prove that he was as much of a soldier as any of them.