Shadows In the Jungle Read Online Free

was to take the man on the right, and he’d handle the soldier on the left. Both men aimed.
    â€œNow,” Dove whispered.
    Gunfire crackled in the darkness as both men fired off several rounds. It was impossible to miss, and the two Japanese soldiers died by their campfire.
    After searching the bodies, Dove had them dragged into the swampy forest and the fire extinguished. He was just ready to move out again when shots erupted behind him. A Japanese patrol had come upon the team’s two-man rear guard, who reacted by cutting loose on the enemy. The rest of the team quickly joined in and the loud skirmish echoed through the forest. The Japanese Arisakas barked in response to the rapid-firing automatic weapons of the Scouts, muzzle flashes puncturing the inky blackness of the night. Then the enemy soldiers evaporated back into the jungle and a stone silence descended.
    â€œThe Japs are moving along this trail in front of us and in back of us,” Dove said. “Follow me.”
    He led the team westward for a short distance, then veered off the trail, moving ten yards into the underbrush. Finding a concealed spot where they could keep an eye on the path, the team hunched down and set up an observation post. The next five hours were spent in absolute silence as the Scouts, trying to ignore the island’s insect life that crawled over and around them, counted Japanese soldiers trudging by, some without weapons and all looking tired and hungry, Dove noted.
    As the sun hit its apogee in the sky and began its descent, Dove decided to put distance between his team and the bodies they had left in their wake. Avoiding the footpath, he led the team westward, through the tangled muck of the jungle.
    * * *
    The Taorum River was a black ribbon in an even blacker night, one of many waterways that flowed down from the twenty-five-mile-long Cyclops mountain range that loomed ten miles inland. The team had spent the afternoon hours slowly, painstakingly wending its way through thick brush and muddy swamps that almost sucked the men’s boots from their feet with each step. All along the way, they were surrounded by the smell of decaying foliage, which, as darkness descended, created foxfire that twinkled around them like silent muzzle flashes.
    Now it was about ten p.m. and the Scouts, exhausted after nearly twenty-two sleepless hours onshore, knelt in the underbrush on the river’s east bank. Waiting in absolute silence, Dove strained his ears for any sound from the opposite side. Hearing none, he turned to Hall and pointed to the other bank.
    Hall, holding his weapon and ammo high, waded into the gently flowing water, crossing slowly to avoid any splashing. All eyes remained fixed on the far side. Weapons were pointed and at the ready. When Hall reached the safety of the far bank, Dove sent the next man. Within thirty minutes, the team was across.
    Dove knew his men were exhausted, but it was imperative to keep moving. He wanted to at least reach the Mabaf River, another three hours’ march away.
    * * *
    The trail led through the small village of Kaptisoe, which lay silent in the early-morning darkness. But the quiet was deceiving. Japanese troops, about forty of them from what Dove could determine, occupied the collection of thatched-roof nipa huts. Even now he saw shadows walking the grounds between the huts, possibly sentries making their rounds.
    The trek from the Taorum River had been relatively short, just a couple of miles, but rugged thanks to the thick vegetation, mangrove swamps, and steeply ridged terrain. It had taken the better part of three hours. Along the way the team had seen numerous Japanese soldiers. Some were sleeping in clumps, fatigued beyond measure, while others lay dead of starvation or exhaustion brought on by illness. The Dove Team bypassed the sleeping men without rousing them. The dead were searched, then left where they had fallen, to be claimed by the jungle, their families back