Although their arrival had not been contested, the plan was not to stay put. A company was left behind to dig in and stop any approaching vehicles. The remainder of the unit was to move north up the highway, securing the road and sweeping any Japanese defenses out of their path. The last phase of wresting control of Leyte from the Japanese had begun.

“Let’s move out!” shouted an officer.

The 306th headed up the road, with Deke and the rest of Patrol Easy once again at the front of the column. Step by step, they moved deeper into enemy territory.

“What I’d like to know is, where the hell are all of the Japanese?” Philly wondered out loud.

Deke nodded at the road ahead. “I reckon we’ll find out soon enough.”

The column continued its advance northward on Highway 2. The open fields fell away and were replaced by a wall of vegetation that marched right to the edge of the mostly dirt highway. The ground began to rise as well, the road winding through small hills that would eventually become the distant mountains, where it was rumored that entire Japanese divisions lay hidden, waiting for the right moment to attack. Looking at the dark hills, it seemed to Deke that anything was possible.

This was territory that favored defense.

It didn’t take long to prove that point, as if anyone had doubts. They rounded a bend in the road and were greeted with a flurry of gunfire.

Deke hit the ground, Danilo beside him, as bullets stitched the dirt road.

“Son of a bitch!” Philly swore, but managed to pop off a few shots from directly behind them. Much farther behind the men on the point, the larger column came to a halt.

Deke didn’t see a target but realized that it didn’t matter. What they needed now was suppressing fire. He put shot after shot into the greenery. The shooting subsided, which meant that he had either gotten the bastards, or that they had slunk away, probably to prepare for another ambush.

Cautiously, he raised himself to one knee, then finally stood and dusted himself off. He was so covered in dried, caked mud from his journeys through the rice paddies that a little more dirt hardly mattered.

“Everybody all right?” Lieutenant Steele asked. By some miracle, they’d all come through the Japanese ambush unscathed. “Keep an eye out. We can expect more of the same up ahead.”

“Then I reckon it’s gonna be a long walk to Palompon,” Deke said.

CHAPTER FIVE

The column crept along the road, burdened by their gear and watching the surrounding vegetation warily. They had begun to pass refugees streaming in the opposite direction, running away from the Japanese and the fighting that was sure to come. Men hurried by with children or the elderly clinging to their backs. What few possessions they could carry were stuffed into baskets and battered suitcases. Cows and dogs were led on ropes.

Fear was etched into the faces of the civilians, although a few gave the Americans encouraging smiles and nods. But for most of the Filipinos fleeing war, getting their families to safety was their only priority.

Although Deke’s attention was drawn to the refugees, for the most part he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, his senses sharp and alert. The sounds of shuffling feet and protesting animals created a constant background noise, but he kept his ears open for the first crack of an enemy rifle that would indicate an ambush.

He could feel the weight of the humid air and the oppressive heat that permeated the crowded road. Sweat beaded across his forehead, but he made no attempt to wipe it off, his hands steady on his rifle.

The soldiers had not only the Japanese and the tropical heat to worry about, but also the terrain. Their first real obstacle turned out to be the bridge over the Tagbog River. This was just one of the many rivers and streams that drained the lush jungle highlands and flowed toward the sea.

The muddy brown river ran between high banks, swollen by recent rains to the point where it resembled an overflowing rain gutter. Though not more than ninety feet wide, the river appeared deep, with a strong current. It would be impossible for the troops to cross the river without the benefit of the bridge.

The Japanese had known this all too well. Realizing that the Americans were coming, the Japanese had made an effort to close off the road behind them by wrecking the bridge. Earlier, Patrol Easy had heard the boom of a large explosion up ahead. The wreckage of the bridge made it clear what all the ruckus had been about.

They arrived at the scene to find some of the timbers still smoldering. In all honesty, the bridge probably hadn’t been all that substantial to begin with. Here in the countryside, bridge construction relied on whatever materials were on hand, which meant wood and stone and sometimes even rope lashing rather than steel girders.

The smashed and broken lumber resembled oversize Popsicle sticks rather than properly sized bridge timbers. Halfway across the river, the single stone pillar that anchored the span remained upright.