Between the rock walls, in a clear space no more than forty feet wide, thick vegetation grew in the bottom of the ravine, so lush and brilliantly green that it didn’t even look real. The ravine stretched for nearly half a mile, and beyond that the ground sloped as if rising to meet the tops of the ravine’s walls. They could see trees and open sky beyond.
There didn’t seem to be any trail, but Danilo plunged ahead without hesitation. The greenery grew to about shoulder height but was free of any large trees or shrubs, as if the space had been clear cut at some point but had since filled in with vegetation. Deke stopped for a moment, taking it all in. This was unlike anything he had seen before on Leyte.
“Where the hell are we going?” Philly wondered.
“To hell if I know. There’s no trail to speak of. Looks like a good place to get snakebit,” Deke answered. “Then again, Danilo hasn’t steered us wrong yet. Keep up.”
Deke waded into the sea of green. He found himself holding the rifle above his head like he might do when wading through water, but in this case he was trying to keep it from getting snagged on the ferns and leaves the size of dinner plates. Up ahead, Danilo moved quickly, as if unconcerned about any Japanese ambush.
They passed through the belly of the ravine and began to climb. Soon the walls weren’t as high because the ground sloped upward. It became brighter as they left the deep shade of the ravine. They emerged on a ridge that appeared to run all the way to Bugabuga Hill, which looked much closer. Danilo’s shortcut had worked.
Danilo didn’t wait for them but kept going. There was a good reason for that, which was the fact that they were now exposed. Any Japanese lookouts would spot them quickly. If any enemy artillery had survived the duel with the 305th, then the patrol might be in yet more trouble. Lucky for them, there was still no sight or sound of the enemy. Steadily, they moved closer to Bugabuga Hill. The clouds had not thinned out, and the dark day was already growing darker.
After another hour, they reached the ridgeline where the Japanese artillery had been dug in. The destruction was impressive, almost as if the ground had been plowed, with empty brass casings scattered across the plowed land like metallic seeds. A few smashed guns were evident, but the Japanese had removed any artillery that was still operational.
What the Japanese had not removed was their dead. Bodies lay sprawled in the holes and ditches where they had fallen, killed by artillery fire. Steele called for a count, and the men came up with fifty-two enemy dead.
“Some of the bodies were in pieces, so we decided to round up,” Philly explained.
“Good enough for me,” Steele said. He called Rodeo over so that he could contact HQ and make his report. When he got off the radio, he said, “That made somebody happy. They’re collecting numbers down there like stamps.”
From the ridge they could clearly see the road they had been on earlier in the day. The Japanese had certainly occupied a commanding position. Higher yet was Bugabuga Hill itself, and Deke, Danilo, and Philly made the climb to the summit. They didn’t find any Japanese dead; evidently, whoever Deke had shot up there had been deemed important enough to carry away.
“You can see for miles,” Deke said. “No wonder the Japanese were up here.”
“The question is, Where did they go?” Philly asked. “We sure as hell didn’t kill them all.”
“I don’t think they went far,” Deke said.
Danilo didn’t seem to have an opinion, but he also seemed to be watching the forests and hills below them warily.
They climbed back down to rejoin the rest of the unit on the ridge. They were still roughly spread out as a column, but Steele hadn’t given any orders to move out.
“Come here a minute, Deke,” Steele ordered.
He hurried toward the rear of the column. “Honcho?”
“We’re losing daylight,” Steele said. “I don’t want to go any farther and get caught in the dark, and I don’t want us to be sitting ducks on this ridge. You know how the Japs love their night attacks. We’ll need to dig in before dark.”
The men got to work with their entrenching tools, turning the deeper shell holes into defenses for the night. The men kept throwing glances at the forest beyond the clearing at the top of the ridge, half expecting the Japanese to emerge from the trees. The fact that no enemy troops appeared was not reassuring because they knew it was more likely that the Japanese would attack at night, when the darkness gave them cover.
Deke had an idea, which he brought up with Honcho. “What if we get the Japs to attack us?”
“Deke, what the hell are you talking about? I’m damn sure they do plan to attack us.” The lieutenant showed a rare flash of irritation, a reminder that the weight of the patrol was on his shoulders.
“Honcho, what I mean is, What if we make them come to us in a banzai charge? When we’re in our foxholes, waiting for them?”
The lieutenant thought about that. “Now you’re making sense. If the Japs come at us in small groups, it’s going to be one hell of a night. Death by a thousand cuts. But if they decide to wipe us all out at once—”
“We can mow them down,” Deke said, finishing the lieutenant’s thought.
Steele nodded. “All right, that’s not a bad plan. Here’s what we’re going to do. Set up our machine guns and a couple of mortars facing down the slope. It’s a damn good field of fire, and it’s steeper than it looks, which will slow them down if they’re trying to run up it. We’ve got that hill at our backs and it’s rugged terrain, so I doubt a large force can come at us from that direction.”
The arrangements were made, and the men soon understood their role. Now all they needed to do was encourage the Japanese to attack. It was Philly who came up with a good idea for that.
“Why don’t we throw a party and invite the Nips?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Philly?”
Quickly, he outlined his idea. “You know I’m from Philadelphia, right? Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, all that Revolutionary War stuff. Plus, George Washington crossing the Delaware. Remember that Washington and his boys swooped down on the Hessians so easily because it was Christmas Eve and all the Germans were drinking and partying. What if we can convince the Japanese that we’re like the Hessians? Let’s make them think we’re having us a good ol’ time and that we’ll be easy pickings.”
“It’s not Christmas Eve.”
“Do you think the Japanese know that? It was a couple of nights ago, so close enough.”
Slowly, Honcho nodded. “All right, let’s give it a try. We’ve got nothing to lose.”
The men built a large bonfire, throwing caution to the wind. The fire would be big enough to get the attention of any Japanese in the vicinity, if by some miracle they weren’t already aware of the American presence. Once the flames were leaping and the sparks were flying, the men joked in loud voices, shouted “Merry Christmas!” to one another, even sang a few Christmas carols. They did their best to seem like they were also drinking, joking with one another about how good the whiskey was. In reality, they weren’t drinking anything stronger than some metallic-tasting canteen water.
Although the celebration was phony, it was easy enough for the men to get into the spirit of it. A few men quietly served as lookouts, having crept out from the defenses in order to spot any Japanese activity right away. Deke wasn’t much interested in being part of the fake holiday foolishness, but he was glad to be out in the dark, his rifle and knife at the ready.
After midnight, the plan finally seemed to be working. He thought he heard hushed Japanese voices, and even the sound of branches snapping as if a number of enemy troops were positioning themselves in the woods. He hurried back to report what he’d heard to the lieutenant.
“They’re coming, Honcho. No doubt about it.”
“You guys stay near the bonfire and whoop it up,” Honcho said quietly. He also gave an order to bring in the rest of the scouts. “The rest of you get into your foxholes. Hold your fire until I give the order.”
Another hour passed without incident, to the point where Deke wondered if his ears had been playing tricks on him earlier. But then came the sound of the shrill whistles that the Japanese used to signal an attack. They heard shouts and moonlight flashed off a sword blade waved by an officer. It was soon apparent that Philly’s plan had worked all too well. They could hear the Japanese running toward them up the slope, even if they couldn’t see them clearly.
In the blinding darkness, the sound of so many enemy troops rushing toward them, unseen, was terrifying. That all changed when the mortar squad fired a flare that hung above the slope, illuminating the mass of Japanese headed for their position. In the strange, bright, flickering light, the enemy faces looked contorted and enraged, the eyes and screaming mouths nothing more than dark holes under the rim of their helmets. But now, at the very least, they could see the enemy.
“Here they come,” Philly muttered.
“Pick your targets, boys,” Deke said. “One shot, one Jap.”
Fingers on their triggers, they didn’t have to wait long for the order.
“Open fire!” Lieutenant Steele shouted.
The machine guns opened up, tracers racing across the open ground. Swaths of enemy soldiers went down as if they had been yanked on by a rope. The mortar squad added to the havoc, exploding shells knocking holes in the Japanese advance. Thinned out, the enemy kept advancing.
Deke aimed and fired, aimed and fired, each shot taking out another enemy soldier. Nobody shouted orders — there wasn’t any need. Each soldier’s duty was as obvious as the menacing figures rushing toward them. It was kill or be killed.