A Song For Lisa Read Free

sugar
plantation where the prisoners were located. Laying his compass on the map he
oriented it with the compass and penciled in a thin line to the compound. He
memorized the azimuth of the line and checked his watch again. They had about
seven hours of darkness to cover nine miles to the prison camp.
    Jonathon had studied the maps of the area and was confident
that they could cover the distance to the compound by dawn when they would lay
low to rest and observe the activities of the prison community. There were few
roads in the area which suited him. He preferred making the trip through the
jungle where chances of discovery were less likely.
    Two flanking scouts were sent out about one hundred feet on
each side of the main body along the proposed line of travel. Lieutenant Jacobs
was assigned the job of securing the tail of the column while Jonathon took the
point position with the radioman at his side. He stood up to check the
surrounding darkness fingering the safety on his Thompson submachine. For the
first hour, he felt confident guiding the platoon by keeping the moon on his left
shoulder. Every half hour he would stop to check his azimuth and realign the
relative position of the moon which was constantly changing.
    The tight column of Rangers cleared the heavier ground
vegetation and found themselves under the relatively open canopy of a coconut
plantation of widely spaced trees. Three men in dark clothing suddenly blocked
Jonathon’s inland movement. He clicked the safety on his Thompson and dropped
to his knees, prepared to defend himself.
    “We’ve been expecting you Snapdragon ,” announced a
deep voice in broken English.
    “I’m relieved to make contact with you,” answered Jonathon
warily, his finger still on the trigger.
    “Let us take a moment to review what is ahead of us,”
suggested the tallest of the shadowy men touching Jonathon on his shoulder.
“Please sit so that we can study our maps. We are relatively safe from
detection within this plantation. My father owns it. I’m Sergeant Hammer of the
Filipino Scouts. I assume that you are Lieutenant Wright.”
    Jonathon breathed easier and kneeled beside the Filipino
sergeant. “I was beginning to worry that we had missed you, Sergeant Hammer.”
    “I apologize that I did not direct you to us with a light,
but the Japanese have been more active lately with their shore patrols. We made
certain that you were not threatened by the patrols. I thought it would be
better for you to get away from the beach before we made contact,” explained
Sergeant Hammer, laying a map on the ground exactly like the one Jonathon had
folded in his pocket.
    Sergeant Hammer outlined the original mission which was
being taken over by other Filipino units. As a matter of fact it was his group
of guerrilla fighters that had recommended the change in plans. He had fifteen
men with him to supplement the army platoon for the assault on the compound.
His map had been updated with a more accurate layout of the sugar plantation
where the women were being held prisoner.
    Approximately thirty Japanese naval infantrymen were
guarding the rectangular compound, which consisted of a barn and a stable
completely enclosed by a barbed wire fence with elevated platforms at the four
corners. Two men and a machine gun were located on each platform day and night.
There was also a large two-story house immediately beside the horse stable. The
guards were housed in a lean-to attached to the house. Sergeant Hammer believed
that the house was being used by the officers. They had counted three officers
but there may be more.
    “How long will it take us to get there, Sergeant?” asked
Jonathon.
    “If we don’t have to detour for Japanese patrols, we can be
there by three o’clock in the morning. I have a small band of local partisans
watching the compound from a nearby hillside. Our immediate destination is that
overview. As soon as the sun comes up you can observe the camp and plan