“Honcho, I’ve just got to say that clearing out a tunnel doesn’t sound like the right job for us,” Philly said. “We’re supposed to be scouts and snipers.”
“But we’re the lucky bastards who happen to be here,” Steele said.
As it turned out, the job wouldn’t be Patrol Easy’s to do alone. Word came down that soldiers from the 92nd Bomb Disposal Squad would be called in, with Patrol Easy assigned to help out. What help they were supposed to give a bomb squad was anybody’s guess.
It turned out that the “bomb squad” consisted of just two men. The 92nd was stretched thin from being called upon to deal with weapons stockpiles that had been left behind by the Japanese.
“Honcho, the bomb squad guys are here,” Philly announced, leading them to where the lieutenant sat Indian style on the ground, studying a map and smoking a cigarette.
“Just two of you?” Lieutenant Steele asked in surprise.
“Our guys are in demand, sir. What can we say?” replied one of the soldiers, a taller man who informed them that he went by his nickname, which was Sparks. His partner was a guy nicknamed Fuze. The men of Patrol Easy looked at one another, not sure that humor was the best quality in a bomb squad technician.
“Don’t you worry, sir,” Sparks said. “We’ll do a bang-up job.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t put it that way,” Steele muttered. “Sparks and Fuze, huh? You guys are a regular couple of comedians. All right, let’s get to it. Tell us what to do.”
“You got it, sir.”
“Listen, there are still a lot of Japs around, so do me a favor and call me Honcho.”
“Honcho, huh? I like that, sir. Keeps any nosy Japs from figuring out you’re the man in charge. I hear snipers like to target officers.”
“You heard right. So don’t call me sir again. And you sure as hell better not salute me.”
Sparks got the message loud and clear. “You got it, Honcho.”
Despite his joking manner, the man seemed to know his job, announcing that the first order of business was to check for any booby traps hidden within the stockpile itself and then take inventory. The stockpile discovered by Patrol Easy was one of the biggest yet, although it was expected that by the time the army got to Manila, there would be even larger ammunition dumps — if the Japanese didn’t destroy them first. It could only be supposed that the Japanese had simply run out of time to blow up this underground depot.
The Japanese had evidently planned on letting the advancing soldiers do that job for them. Patrol Easy reentered the tunnel to escort the bomb squad experts. Close to the ammunition stockpile, Sparks and Fuze found several trip wires attached to mines. If Patrol Easy had gone poking around, Sparks informed them, setting off a mine might have been enough to trigger the entire ammunition dump.
“You did good getting out of here alive, fellas,” Sparks announced. “One wrong step and you would’ve been blown so high that you all would’ve been dancing on the moon.”
“Good thing, because I forgot my dancing shoes,” Philly said.
“All right, I’d suggest that everybody clear out of the tunnel for now,” Sparks said. He held up a pair of pliers and snapped them open and shut. “Fuze and I need to decommission these booby traps before we can start to haul this out of here.”
“You sure about this?” Steele asked.
Despite all his wisecracks, Sparks seemed serious and competent when it came to his job. “As sure as I’m going to be, Honcho. When it comes to the bomb squad, we like to say that you only make a mistake once in your career.”
“I don’t like leaving you boys alone,” the lieutenant said. “If nothing else, someone ought to stay down here to watch your back in case there are any Japanese lurking around. They could take you guys out and blow up this whole damn hill.”
“We won’t say no to that if you can spare a couple of guys,” Sparks said. “As long as they’re volunteers.”
“That’s easy, because one of them will be me,” Steele said. He turned to his men. “Anybody else?”
Deke found himself stepping forward. Maybe he was a fool, but he wasn’t about to leave the lieutenant alone on guard duty. “I reckon I’ll hang back with you, Honcho.”
“All right, Deke. I appreciate it, but it’s your funeral. The rest of you, get the hell out of here until you get the all clear from us.”
Not much rattled Deke, but as he watched the two wisecracking soldiers of the demolitions team prepare to deactivate the devices that the enemy had left behind, he discovered that his heart was pounding. In fact, he was a bit surprised that the lieutenant couldn’t hear it a few feet away.
The two bomb squad guys had grown serious, emphasizing the fact that the stakes were high, and one wrong move could be the end for all of them. They worked meticulously, sweat beading on their foreheads as they carefully maneuvered around the Japanese munitions, using their flashlights to catch a glimpse of any trip wires glittering in the flashlight beam.
Meanwhile, Deke pulled his eyes away to join the lieutenant in keeping an eye on the darkness beyond. They were confident that they had swept the tunnel clean earlier, but all it would take was one leftover enemy soldier with suicide on his mind to blow them all sky high. He and Honcho kept their own flashlights off so that they wouldn’t be targeted easily if there were any Japanese around.
Deke’s heart raced faster with each motion of the demolitions team, the weight of impending danger bearing down on him as if the walls of the tunnel were constricting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something could still go wrong, that their lives hung in the balance. As Sparks and Fuze edged their way through the darkness, Deke silently prayed that they’d make it through this unscathed. He cursed himself for volunteering to stay behind, but there was no way that he was going to leave the lieutenant down here.
“Almost there,” Sparks muttered, his voice barely audible. Fuze nodded, his breaths coming shallow and rapid. There was no wisecracking now. In the pale flashlight beam, sweat beaded both men’s faces.
“Got it,” Sparks whispered triumphantly, holding up the last piece of wire. Fuze let out a slow, shaky breath before breaking into a wide grin.
“Piece of cake,” he said, winking at Sparks.
“Let’s not celebrate just yet,” Sparks cautioned, gesturing toward the tunnel’s exit. “We still need to get these babies out of here.”
“Right,” Sparks agreed, straightening up and making his way back to Deke and Honcho. He addressed the lieutenant. “With your permission, could we get the rest of your patrol down here to help us figure out what we’ve got in this tunnel?”
“All right. Deke, go fetch the boys.”
Under the capable eyes of Sparks and Fuze, Patrol Easy reentered the tunnel to help with the inventory so that they knew what was being dealt with. But first Sparks offered some instruction.
“Unless you want to meet Saint Peter ahead of schedule, don’t touch anything that doesn’t look right,” Sparks said. “You’ve all got two eyes, so use ’em.”
It turned out that there was quite a lot to lay eyes on, not all of it ammunition, but explosive just the same. Fuze wrote it all down as the men called it out to him. They counted eight hundred drums of aviation fuel, nearly five hundred massive five-hundred-pound bombs, assorted mines and smaller bombs intended to be dropped from observation planes, and one hundred bomb fuses, each with enough juice to take off a man’s hand — or trigger a massive blast. The larger bombs had been intended for planes flying out of the nearby Japanese airstrip.
The question was, What to do with it all? As the lieutenant had stated before, they couldn’t simply leave it. Steele got on the radio and contacted HQ. He was told to salvage the fuel — and blow up the rest. The fuel could be used in American planes in a pinch, but Japanese ammunition wasn’t any good in US guns.
Of course, there was no good way for the handful of soldiers in Patrol Easy to roll eight hundred barrels up the sloping tunnel to the surface. They would need some help for that. Quickly, nearly thirty civilian men were rounded up and put to work. It was hot and sweaty laboring inside the tunnel, but the Filipinos were eager to help. They hadn’t been able to take part in the fighting, but this much they were glad to do. In fact, a couple of the local men took over and organized the entire effort. Within a few hours, the drums of fuel had been moved to the surface, surrounded by barbed wire to discourage any Japanese infiltrators, and put under guard by Filipino volunteers.
That left the matter of the ammunition stockpile. Orders were to destroy it. Grinning, Sparks announced that he had a plan for that. He and Fuze disappeared deeper into the tunnel carrying detonators and a roll of wire. They emerged half an hour later, just as the sun was starting to go down. The sky was fading to hues of pink and purple. Bats began to flit through the air.
“Well?” the lieutenant asked.
“For maximum effect, I’d suggest waiting until full dark,” Sparks said. “Also, I’d recommend getting everyone off this hill.”
They took up positions on the next hilltop, soldiers and civilians alike, gathering around as if preparing to watch July Fourth fireworks. A few guards kept watch for any Japanese who might still be on a night patrol. Sparks and Fuze were positioned closer to the tunnel in order to set off the detonator.
Suddenly the night sky exploded in a brilliant cascade of reds, blues, and greens, each fiery burst echoing across the expanse above. Deke watched in awe, and although he had seen his share of so-called fireworks in this war so far, this was something special. For a change, nobody was being blown up in the process. The very ground shook, even this far away. Beside him, Philly let out a low whistle.