A War Too Far

by David Lee Corley

  “Very good news,” said Dewey.

  Santana left. Ho and Giap had a quick discussion in Vietnamese, then turned to Dewey. “We and the Viet Minh will be leaving for Hanoi. We think you and your men should come with us. It will be safer for you,” said Giap.

  “What are you talking about?” said Dewey.

  “Revolution,” said Ho.

  The Japanese lieutenant at the prison camp had been allowed to send a cable to enquire about his family. He received a response and was crushed by the deaths of not only his wife and son but his brother and his family. His grief was deep. He went to his quarters and wept. He had done his duty and served his emperor. Even with the war going badly, he had his family to consider. They gave him a purpose. And now they were gone.

  The lieutenant had a Tanto – Samurai short sword – buried in the bottom of his footlocker where nobody would find it. He had purchased it for three packs of French cigarettes and two cans of foie gras. The seller was a Japanese corporal that would not say where he had obtained such a beautiful weapon. The lieutenant imagined the corporal had stolen it from an officer of high rank, perhaps after he was wounded or dead. It didn’t matter to the lieutenant. It was his now. He knew very well how to use it to commit Seppuku. An old sergeant that had served as a hand servant for a general had instructed him. The key was to be decisive in one’s movements – don’t stop once you start. Life would never be the same if he failed to die after disemboweling himself.

  The lieutenant had decided not to surrender. There were no enemy lines to charge and be gunned down. He would have to do it himself. It made him proud. He had lost face after the American had taken his sword. Seppuku was an acceptable method to restore his honor. The only question was when.

  A corporal entered his quarters and informed him that the major had an announcement for the soldiers under his command and the prisoners. The lieutenant thought it strange that the prisoners were to hear any announcement at the same time as the Japanese. It seemed disrespectful to the Japanese soldiers. He rose, tucked the tanto in his belt, and followed the corporal out of his quarters.

  The prisoners were assembled inside the wire as close to the commander’s hut as possible. They had a translator that would translate the announcement as it was read out loud. The Japanese soldiers were assembled right outside the hut, along with the lieutenant. The Japanese major, solemn and downcast, walked outside and stood on the porch to deliver the message. He was wearing his dress uniform with daisho – a traditional set of matching swords, one short, the other long. “I have been instructed to read to you a message from our heavenly sovereign,” said the major unfolding a paper with a quivering hand. “To our good and loyal subjects: After pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our Empire today, We have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to an extraordinary measure. We have ordered our government to communicate to the governments of the United States, Great Britain, China, and the Soviet Union that our Empire accepts the provisions of their Joint Declaration.”

  The major stopped for a moment to check his emotions and to let the translator for the French catch-up. It took a moment for the French prisoners to realize what the emperor had said – that Japan was surrendering unconditionally. “It’s over. The war is over,” said one of the prisoners. “The Japanese have surrendered. We won.”

  A cheer erupted through the French ranks. They danced and patted each other on the back.

  The Japanese soldiers watched, their heads bowed in shame. The major finished the announcement from the emperor and then gave the Japanese guards instructions. “You are free to go,” said the major to the French. “But I suggest you stay until transportation can be arranged to take you to Hanoi.”

  The Japanese guards did as they were instructed and opened the gates to the prison compound. The machinegunners in the towers brought down their weapons, leaving their posts unmanned.

  The major realized that it was a very dangerous situation for both sides. There were some Japanese that might seek revenge for Hiroshima or Nagasaki or the firebombing in Tokyo. Some French prisoners had been poorly treated by the Japanese and had watched many of their comrades die from starvation, sickness or beheading. He would talk with the French commander of the prisoners and hopefully come to some accommodation that protected their men. But his orders were clear. The French were allowed to leave anytime they wished. The Japanese soldiers would stay until their commanders gave them new orders.

  The major was ashamed and wanted desperately to commit Seppuku. But he still had a duty to perform, and he believed there was no other higher call than duty. Seppuku would have to wait. He ordered that the remaining Red Cross packages that had not already been looted by his men be distributed to the prisoners. The boxes contained canned food, medical supplies, soap, toothbrushes, lice combs, and books to read.

  The lieutenant turned and scanned the French prisoners until he found the American, staring straight back at him as if they had unfinished business. The lieutenant smiled a little. There was one last thing he needed to do to restore his honor before joining his wife and child in the afterlife. He would need to wait until the major was busy with the French commander hashing out the details of what would happen next.

  Laurent walked up next to Granier and glanced in the direction he was looking. He saw the lieutenant. “He’ll come for you,” said Laurent.

  “I expect he will,” said Granier, never taking his eyes off the lieutenant.

  “He’s a coward. He’ll bring others.”

  Granier grunted in response. “It’s stupid to die this close to freedom,” said Laurent.

  “Freedom is overrated.”

  “Let it go. The war is over.”

  “Not mine and not his.”

  “Don’t you want to live?”

  “Again, overrated.”

  Laurent knew that the Japanese lieutenant would most likely kill Granier. Granier was without weapons beyond his hands. He had seen Granier fight and thought him lucky to still have his head. Human flesh was no match for a samurai sword, especially if surprise were taken out of the equation. The lieutenant would be coming for Granier, and he would be prepared. It was possible that the lieutenant could walk up and shoot Granier in the head with his pistol. Fortunately, the Japanese soldiers were deeply tied to their culture, and that meant using the sword the lieutenant carried. Laurent considered for moment… if he could keep the two apart until the transportation came, Granier would live and never have to deal with the lieutenant again.

  Laurent told several of the French soldiers the situation and asked for their help. They agreed.

  On the opposite side of the fence, the lieutenant approached the Japanese soldiers that he knew had lost loved ones in the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. His pitch was simple – revenge against the American. He had plenty of support to carry out his plan when the time came.

  Laurent approached Granier, his eyes following the lieutenant’s every move outside the wire. “So, I have been thinking,” said Laurent. “Once the bloodletting starts, it may be impossible to stop it. The Japanese may choose to continue and attack the French prisoners. It would be safer for all concerned if you and the lieutenant were prevented from having a confrontation.”

  “What?” said Granier while keeping his eyes on his target.

  Three prisoners moved up behind Granier. One threw a shirt over his face while the other two grabbed Granier’s arms from behind. Granier was caught off guard. He struggled to free himself from their grip. The prisoner directly behind him was a bruiser, the largest man in the camp. He punched Granier several times in the back, knocking the wind out of him. Granier stopped struggling.

  They took him to sickbay. The doctor used chloroform from one of the newly opened Red Cross packages to knock him unconscious. He wrapped Granier’s face in gauze so nobody would recognize him. The prisoners lashed Granier’s hands and feet
to the bed frame using torn pieces of cloth. They did not want to hurt Granier. They wanted to keep him alive. They threw a blanket over him to hide his bonds.

  Later in the afternoon, after the prisoners had gorged themselves on the food inside the Red Cross packages, the French commander left the compound and walked toward the Japanese commander’s hut. The lieutenant watched with interest as the commander and the major saluted each other on the porch then moved inside for their meeting. The lieutenant realized that this could be his only chance to get at the American prisoner before he was transported away from the camp. He signaled the men he had recruited for the task.

  Granier woke up in a groggy haze. His hands and legs were tied down. The gauze over his eyes prevented him from seeing anything. He could smell the urine and feces from the patients suffering from dysentery. He was in sickbay. He considered calling out but then thought better. He fingered the bonds on his wrists. They weren’t rope or wire. They were made of cloth twisted into a strand. He tugged hard at his wrist to see if they would give way. They didn’t. Okay, he thought. I do it the long way.

  The long way involved sorting through the twist of cloth and finding an edge. He felt up and down the edge until he felt a piece that was frayed. He pushed the edge of the cloth against the wooden rail to which it was tied. He used his thumbnail to rub the frayed edge making it bigger. If he could get a tear in the cloth going, he might be able to continue the tear until enough of the cloth was torn so he could break it. He knew the process would probably cost him a thumbnail and would create one hell of a blister on the end of his thumb. Don’t be a pussy, he thought and pressed on.

  The lieutenant entered the prisoner compound with seven soldiers, bayonets already affixed on their rifle barrels. They moved into the crowd of prisoners in search of the American.

  Two more soldiers, with their rifles slung, carried three bamboo poles and a long coil of rope. They set up a tripod just outside the entrance to the compound.

  Several of the French prisoners yelled at the Japanese soldiers, taunting them. “Where is the American?” said the lieutenant in French.

  The prisoners ignored him and continued to shout. One of the prisoners pushed back when one of the Japanese soldiers shoved him aside. The lieutenant rushed forward, drew his sword, and swung with a downward stroke into the prisoner. The blade stopped mid-chest having sliced the upper half of his body in two. The French were in shock as their comrade fell to the ground. The lieutenant cleaned his blade on the dead prisoner’s tattered uniform. “Where is the American?” he said again.

  Toward the back of the crowd of prisoners now giving the lieutenant a wide berth, two of the prisoners that had helped subdue Granier exchanged a glance and moved back toward the sickbay.

  The lieutenant looked at the prisoners and spotted Laurent. “You know the American,” he said, pointing his sword at Laurent. “Where is he?”

  Two of the Japanese soldiers grabbed Laurent and pulled him forward. He was forced to kneel before the lieutenant. “I will find him with you or without you. The only question is the ownership of your head.”

  “He’s gone. He left an hour after the gates were opened. He said he could make it through the jungle. That it would be safer than waiting here,” said Laurent.

  “You lie. He would never leave. We have unfinished business,” said the lieutenant.

  “He was afraid you would kill him with your sword.”

  “No. The American is many things, but a coward is not one of them. I will ask you one last time, and if I am not satisfied with your answer, I will kill you,” said the lieutenant, raising his sword for a horizontal strike across Laurent’s neck. “Where is the American?”

  Laurent locked eyes with the lieutenant and said nothing.

  “I’m right here, ya little pussy,” said Granier in English, standing in the doorway of the sickbay with the two prisoners behind him.

  Four Japanese soldiers rushed forward. Two grabbed the American while the other two cleared the way, threatening any prisoners that interfered with their bayonets. As they escorted him past the lieutenant, Granier turned and said in French, “I’m surprised you’re still alive after that thrashing I gave you. No honor, I guess. Or is hari-kari just too much for you to handle?”

  “You talk big, American. We will see how you feel five minutes from now,” said the lieutenant in French following them out the main gate and over to the tripod of bamboo poles. On the lieutenant’s orders, the soldier closed and locked the gate. Two soldiers stood facing the gate with their rifles leveled in case the French tried to interfere by rushing the gate.

  The soldiers held the American tight, preventing him from moving. The lieutenant walked over and slid his sword into one of Granier’s shirt sleeves. A quick upward stroke sliced the shirt off. The tip of the blade nicked Granier’s ear lobe. “So, sorry. I must be more careful,” said the lieutenant. One of the soldiers pulled the rest of the shirt off his opposite arm. Next, the lieutenant slid his sword inside Granier’s trouser leg next to his inner thigh and just an inch from his testicles. Granier seemed a bit nervous. “Don’t worry, American. Castration would cause too much blood loss. You will need all your blood for what I am about to do to you. Castration doesn’t come until the end,” said the lieutenant as he sliced outward with a clean stroke and the trousers dropped to the ground, leaving Granier completely naked.

  Granier could see where this was going. He knew that once they had him suspended on the bamboo poles, he would be helpless. If he was going to escape and kill the lieutenant, it had to be before he was tied to the tripod. He used all his remaining strength to pull the smaller of the two men holding him around to the front. He kneed him in the groin as hard as he could. He released Granier’s arm and fell to his knees. With one hand free, Granier grabbed the other soldier by the throat and squeezed, cutting off his air. Granier did not see the rifle butt that hit him in the side of the head. But he felt it and went down in a daze but still conscious.

  The soldiers pushed Granier to the ground and hog-tied him – his feet and hands tied together behind his back with a short length of rope. They hoisted him up on the tripod forcing his arms, legs, and back into a painful contortion. “Anything more you want to say before we get started?” said the lieutenant sliding his long sword back into its sheath and drawing his Tanto.

  “Just one question, I guess,” said Granier.

  “What’s that?” said the lieutenant laying the short sword’s blade on Granier’s chest.

  “How does it feel being on the losing side of a war?” said Granier.

  The lieutenant drew the blade across the American’s chest with a clean half-inch deep slice. There was surprisingly little blood. The lieutenant had been careful not to cut too deep where he might have severed an artery. At first, the pain was slight. But as the nerve endings in the flesh were exposed to air, they burned like fire. Granier winced. He couldn’t help himself. “That’s the first of one thousand,” said the lieutenant. “Let’s continue. I don’t want to be here all night.”

  A guard on the porch of the commander’s hut had seen enough and ran inside.

  The second slice was down and diagonal to Granier’s rib cage below his chest. Again, the slice was only a half-inch deep, but was enough to expose a few ribs but drew little blood.

  “Enough,” said the major standing on the porch next to the guard. “Lieutenant, you will release that man at once.”

  The major ordered his guard to shoot the lieutenant if he touched the American again. The guard raised his rifle and aimed at the lieutenant’s back.

  “My wife was named ‘Katsuko’ and my son ‘Daishin.’ Remember them. They are why you die in such a manner,” said the lieutenant making another slice on Granier’s left leg.

  The guard did nothing. “I gave you an order,” said the major, but still the guard did nothing.

  The lieutenant could feel that time was running short. He sheathed his blood-stained sho
rt sword and drew his long sword. He raised it above his head in preparation for a long diagonal stroke that would cut through the American’s rib cage and disembowel him. A shot rang out. The lieutenant twitched.

  The major, holding the guard’s rifle, stood on the porch, having just fired.

  The lieutenant looked at Granier for his final moments of life. Granier raised his head, looked the lieutenant in the eyes, and said, “Pussy.”

  The lieutenant fell dead. The French prisoners pushed on the fence in unison, and the lock broke. The Japanese soldiers did nothing to stop them. The gate swung open. They rushed out and surrounded Granier. They had no weapons, but they vastly outnumbered the Japanese. The major ordered his men to stand down. The French used the lieutenant’s sword to cut Granier loose carefully. He fell into their arms. They brought him back to sickbay where the doctor went to work stitching him back up. While Granier’s wounds were painful, none was fatal. “You’re making this a habit, I see,” said the doctor as he placed a rag sprinkled with chloroform over his patient’s nose and mouth.

  Granier took a breath and passed out.

  The next day, a convoy of military trucks picked up the prisoners. The Japanese weren’t taking any chances at violating the terms of the ceasefire and treated their prisoners humanely. Some even tried to make friends with the French. They were the ones that would now need mercy after surrendering unconditionally. Now that the war had ended, the Japanese didn’t want it to start again.

  The country was in chaos. The Vietnamese people shouted curses and threw water buffalo dung and rocks at the Japanese trucks as they passed. The French did their best to keep out of sight. They were still unarmed, and the Vietnamese hated them just as much as the Japanese.

  Word spread through the trucks that a Chinese commander had been placed in charge of Hanoi by the Allies. He had given orders to place the French in a detention center until a transport ship could be arranged to carry them back to France. They would not be allowed to remain in Vietnam.