Red Randall at Pearl Harbor

by R. Sidney Bowen

  “They’ve attacked Pearl Harbor!” he mumbled again as though still striving to grasp the full meaning of the words. “The Japs attacked us...just as Dad said they probably would. But...but it won’t get them a thing. Our planes will go up and shoot them all down! Where did they come from? They flew here from Japan? No, that’s crazy! They couldn’t do that!”

  “No, too far,” Red grunted and half listened to the constant rumbling roar that rolled up from the direction of Pearl Harbor. “They must be Jap carrier-based planes. A carrier or two sneaked in close last night, or something. But those devils won’t get back to their carriers. We’ll find them and send them to the bottom. You wait and see! We’ll...!”

  Young Randall cut off the last word short and sharply sucked in his breath as he glanced out over the water. He saw a plane out there. It was low down, and coming at rocket speed straight for the point where Jimmy Joyce and he hugged the bushes. Then he saw its wing guns open fire, but for a moment he was too paralyzed by all that was happening to move a single muscle. By now the onrushing plane was close, and he could see that it was Japanese. He could also see where the bullets from its guns were kicking up dirt around his parked Fairchild two-seater. He let out a strangled yell and grabbed Joyce by the arm.

  “He’s trying to get the Fairchild!” he cried. “And if he sees us he may give us some of it, too. Come on! Dive into the bushes where he can’t see us. Damn him! If he smashes that Fairchild, I’ll...”

  Randall choked on the rest and left it unspoken. He had Jimmy Joyce by the arm and was half pushing and half pulling him deeper into the bushes that fringed the clear strip of land. Not until they were both well-hidden did Red notice Joyce’s face white with pain. The youth was biting his lips hard and rubbing his right ankle with both hands.

  “Hey, Jimmy, you are hurt!” Randall gasped and dropped down beside him. “Your ankle!”

  “Turned it when I landed in the parachute,” Joyce replied, forcing a grin to his lips. “Forgot about it and stepped on it too hard just now. It’ll be okay in a minute. That’s Jap a rotten shot! He couldn’t even hit a barn door!”

  Jimmy Joyce had to shout the words; because the strafing Japanese plane was practically right over their heads. The yammer of his guns plus the roar of his engine were enough to paralyze anybody’s eardrums. And he was indeed a rotten shot, or perhaps he was just trying to see how close he could come to his target. At any rate, he kicked up dirt all around the Fairchild but completely missed the plane itself. Then, cutting his fire, the Japanese pilot poked the nose of his plane toward the blue morning sky and went prop-clawing up and away out of sight. Randall stared over at the Fairchild and swallowed hard. Its prop was still idling over smoothly, and from where he crouched in the bushes he could not see a single sign of a bullet hole in the wings or fuselage.

  “Yeah!” he echoed. “A rotten shot, I’ll say. Look, Jimmy, we’ve got to do something.”

  “Do what?” Joyce said and nodded toward the sky. “He may be back any second. We’d better stick where we are. Listen to that noise! The Japs must be blowing up everything with their bombs. And... God! My Dad! I wonder where he is and what he’s doing? He said he was having breakfast this morning on the Arizona!”

  Red Randall made no comment on that. He suddenly thought of his own father, and tiny fingers of ice clutched at his heart. He knew that his Dad had planned to go over to Hickam Field. He probably was there now. But, no. Maybe he was in the air, shooting down the attacking Japanese planes! As that thought came to him, he impulsively stood up and looked hard at the sky to the south, almost as though he expected to see his father’s plane whirling and twisting around in the air, bringing down one Japanese plane after another.

  True, he did see planes in the sky to the south, but they were too far away to tell whether they were Japanese or American. Besides, what caught and really held his attention were the great columns of flame-etched black smoke boiling high up into the December sky. He knew that Ford Island and Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor itself were at the bases of those terrifying columns of smoke, and his heart seemed to freeze solid in his chest.

  Suddenly he shuddered and turned his gaze from those ever-mounting columns of black smoke, and glanced out offshore. What he saw made him catch his breath in amazement.

  “The submarine!” he suddenly exploded in words. “The Japanese submarine I was supposed to look for. There it is! On the surface. And coming in toward the beach!”

  “What’s that?” Jimmy Joyce cried in his ears. “A Japanese submarine? Where? Where, Red?”

  “Right out there!” young Randall cried, pointing with a hand that trembled just a little. “See? Coming right in toward the beach. And it’s Jap! It’s got to be Jap!”

  Red stopped talking abruptly and stared at the small-sized steel shark of the deep that was crawling in toward the beach. In that moment it seemed as though his conversation with Colonel Stacey and Major Nichols only a short time before had taken place years and years ago. Sure! The Japanese submarine he was supposed to look for! The Japanese submarine that was to meet Kato Harada and the dead Joe Haleohano right here at the Waikane shore. There it was, and though he could see nothing to mark it as Japanese, he was certain that it was.

  “But I’m not in the air!” he mumbled aloud. “I’m not up there where they can see me from the Kaneohe Naval Base. And I’m...”

  He never finished that sentence, for at that exact moment two things happened so closely on top of one another that Red Randall had the crazy feeling that one event had brought about the other. Down the shoreline and out on Mokapu Point, which is mostly occupied by the Kaneohe Naval Base, a series of thunderous explosions took place. Great clouds of oily black smoke and sheets of livid flame shot skyward. Less than a split second later there came a dull rumble, but much closer at hand. As a matter of fact, it came from the small submarine running on the surface toward shore. Randall, and Jimmy Joyce, too, saw its stubby snout spurt flame. And then invisible hands seemed to grab hold of the undersea craft, hoist it clear up out of the water, spin it over twice, and then smash it down into the water again. It seemed to Red that he had hardly blinked when there was nothing but a patch of white frothy water to mark the spot where the submarine had been. A white frothy patch of water over which hung a thin layer of dull gray smoke.

  “God!” Red breathed hard and gave a little twisting shake of his head. “Must have been an explosion aboard, or maybe it hit a mine, or something. But, it’s gone. The darn thing is on the bottom now and finished. What a way to die!”

  “How do you know it was Jap?” he heard Jimmy Joyce’s strained voice at his side. “Maybe it was one of ours. Maybe we should do something about it?”

  Randall looked at the spot of foam that was slowly turning Pacific blue again, and shook his head.

  “Nothing anybody could do now,” he said. “And it was Jap. I know darn well it was. It had to be!”

  Chapter Nine – Man With the Scarred Face

  FOR A LONG time neither boy said anything. And then slowly Red Randall became conscious of Jimmy Joyce’s gaze fixed rigidly upon him. He turned and looked into the questioning eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “What are you looking like that at me for?”

  “Did you say you were hunting for that submarine? Aw, go on! Don’t give me that! You were just as much surprised to see it as I was! What do you mean you were hunting for it?”

  “That’s right!” Red snapped hotly. “And, say! What was the big idea of tagging along after me? I didn’t ask you along. I was on important business, and you had to butt in!”

  “Who butted in?” Jimmy Joyce came right back at him. “I wasn’t tagging along after you either, not exactly. I just saw you tear off the field and head up here. Billy Carstairs happened to come down in Number Six just then, so I took it and flew up here to see what was going on. And...well, do you think you own the air, or something? Why...”

  Joyce suddenly stopped. Rather he falt
ered to a halt, and a deep flush filled his face. He lowered his eyes in embarrassment for a moment, and then looked at Randall again.

  “I’m sorry, Randall, I forgot,” he said with an effort. “And you sure did save me from that Jap. I’m sorry. Skip it, will you? I guess I’m acting like a kid.”

  Red stared at him closely to see if he meant it, and was instantly certain that Joyce did. He grinned, and made a little half gesture with his hands.

  “I guess we’re both acting like kids, Jimmy,” he said. “Shucks! You’ve got a perfect right to fly where you want to. I just got sore without thinking, I guess. Sure, let’s both skip it, huh? But that was straight, Jimmy. I really did come over here to look for a Jap submarine, or something.”

  “You did?” Joyce breathed as his eyes went wide. “No fooling? But what about it? Who sent you? And how did they know that a Jap submarine was going to be here? You really did, Red?”

  Young Randall opened his mouth to speak, but in the nick of time he remembered his promise to Colonel Stacey. Not that it mattered much now, though. The Japanese submarine had arrived, and a mysterious explosion had sent it to the bottom with all hands. Still and all, he did not think he should tell Jimmy Joyce any more than he already had.

  “That’s the truth, Jimmy,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you any more about it, though. At least, not until I’ve reported to a certain officer. But, look, we can’t stay here all day. I’ve got to get out of here, and get over to Hickam Field. Maybe that submarine blowing up like that was really something important. Look, how’s the ankle?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Joyce replied. “I can walk on it, anyway, if I’m careful. Why?”

  “Then let’s get over to the plane, and I’ll ride you back to John Rogers,” Randall said. Then with a little nervous laugh, he added, “Boy! Have you had some experience today! Shot down by a Jap, and landed by parachute! Won’t the gang...”

  And that is as far as Randall got. He did not finish the rest of it because the sudden scream of diving wings, the roar of an over-revving engine, and the savage yammer of aerial machine-gun fire drove the rest of the words right out of his brain. He ducked first, pulled Jimmy Joyce down into the bushes with him, and then peered upward through the leafy branches. Their rotten marksman had returned. Or, if not the original one, then another Japanese who wasn’t any better with his guns.

  He was diving down from inshore this time, and through fearful eyes Red Randall watched the moving line of kicked-up dirt that marked where the plane’s bullets were hitting the ground. The forward end of the path seemed to come right up to within a dozen yards of the helpless Fairchild, and then stop abruptly as the Japanese pilot cut his fire and went screaming up in a power zoom for altitude.

  “Well, what the heck?” Randall gulped, and blinked his eyes rapidly. “That guy was dead certain to hit the ship that time, but he quit. He... Hey! Maybe one of our planes has sighted him! Wouldn’t I like to see Dad come along and give him the works!”

  But as Randall pushed up through the bushes for a look there was no other plane to be seen in that section of sky. As a matter of fact, he could no longer see the Japanese who had come down shooting, but who so suddenly had changed his mind and spared the Fairchild.

  “Well?” Jimmy Joyce spoke in his ear. “Do you think we should try to fly back to John Rogers? The darn sky sounds like it’s full of Jap planes. And…well, if you want the truth, I’m not very keen about getting shot down again. Besides, there’s only one parachute between us.”

  “Well, you can have it,” Randall said, and then instantly regretted his words. “But, look, Jimmy,” he went on hastily, “what can we do? I don’t want to stay here. I really should get to Hickam and report to an officer there. Or at least I think we should get over to Waikane. We could land there, and I could phone. I...what’s the matter?”

  As Red spoke he noticed that Jimmy Joyce’s face was tight with horror, and he was swallowing hard, as though something was stuck fast in his throat. And then an instant later he realized that Joyce was looking past him and toward the south. Impulsively he turned around and looked himself. The entire heavens to the south were filled with black smoke, and curling, twisting tongues of flame. The terrible sight awed him, and he could only stare at it as though hypnotized.

  “Something awful must be happening at Pearl Harbor!” he heard Jimmy Joyce’s hushed whisper. “It...it looks like everything is on fire. Gosh! I hope they didn’t hit any of the wagons in Battleship Row. Dad said he was going on the Arizona for breakfast. That’s awful to look at, isn’t it, Red! Something terrible is happening down there. I can still hear things exploding, too. I...I guess you’re right, Red.”

  “About what?” Randall mumbled without taking his eyes off the black smoke and red flames in the southern sky.

  “That we can’t stay here,” young Joyce replied. “Maybe there is something we can do down there to help. I’ve never seen flames and smoke like that before. Okay, Red, I’m willing, if you are. And...and you wear the parachute, see? It’s yours anyway.”

  Red Randall looked at him, grinned, and shook his head.

  “Nothing doing,” he said. “We’ll toss for it. You’re not such a bad guy, Jimmy. I guess I kind of had you wrong.”

  “I guess I had you wrong, too,” the other replied with a matching grin. “I’ll say I did. When a fellow saves your life like you did, it...well, I won’t forget that, not ever, Red.”

  “Aw, skip it,” Randall grunted. “It wasn’t anything but luck, and that Jap thinking, I guess, that I had guns on my plane. But let’s get going, Jimmy. Maybe they can tell us things over at Waikane.”

  “If there is any Waikane left,” Jimmy Joyce said, and started to push out of the bushes. “I heard an awful loud explosion over there a little while ago. And there seems to be a lot of smoke in that direction, too.”

  “Well, if there’s nothing left, we’ll skip across to Wheeler Field,” Red said. “That place is one the Japs don’t touch, I bet. The Wheeler planes will be up and at them in no...”

  Whatever else Red Randall might have said remained unspoken. Joyce and he had pushed out of the bushes and were about to break into a run for the Fairchild when suddenly a shape loomed up dead in front of them. A wicked-looking automatic was pointed at them, and a harsh, hissing voice seemed to explode in their ears.

  “Stay right where you are, please! Don’t move, or I will kill you!”

  Red Randall’s heart stopped beating. His eyes were staring into the zigzag scarred face of Kato Harada! Completely stunned, he stood gaping into that evil face as though he half expected to see it disappear in a magic puff of smoke. But that face did not disappear, nor the owner’s body, nor the wicked-looking automatic clutched tightly in his fist. A twinge of fear shot through Red as he saw recognition in those evil eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that Kato Harada remembered knocking him flat on the John Rogers road, just after he had knifed poor Joe Haleohano to death.

  Yes! Kato Harada remembered him, and the jagged scar on the left side of the face twitched as his lips curled back in a sneer.

  “So?” he suddenly said in a hissing whisper. “You came over here to look for a Japanese submarine, yes? That is very interesting. Also, all that you two have been talking about. Yes! Very interesting, and very fortunate for me!”

  Chapter Ten – A Grim Decision

  KATO HARADA’S EYES never left Red Randall’s face as he spoke, but his feet were moving. The Japanese seemed to fairly glide forward over the ground until he reached a point no more than a couple of feet from Jimmy Joyce. There he stopped, and for a fleeting instant his cruel eyes slid off Randall’s face. Then, in what was practically the same instant, Harada’s gun whipped out and down in a chopping stroke. Young Joyce made no sound. He simply closed his eyes, his knees buckled, and he slipped down onto the ground.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Red Randall hardly recognized his own voice as he lunged forward. But
he did not lunge far. The Harada’s gun whipped through the air again and then jabbed forward. Red Randall gasped with pain as the muzzle of the automatic struck him viciously in the chest. The savage impact also knocked him off stride. He missed his footing, and stumbled down onto his knees.

  “You fool, I should shoot you now where you are!” the hissing voice spat at him. “But that will wait until later. Here! Bind his hands and feet, and do not be so foolish again.”

  As the Japanese spoke he took a coil of fine wire from his pocket and tossed it on the ground in front of Randall.

  “Bind his hands and feet quickly!” he rasped when Randall made no move to pick up the coil of fine wire. “Do it at once! Or perhaps you would like to feel this?”

  All that Red Randall could think of was stabbing brown streaks of lightning as Harada’s hands moved again. He seemed actually to pick it out of the air, but whether he did or not it was still a gleaming needle-pointed knife that he held in his other hand. By the time Red could blink, the needle point was lightly pricking the skin of his throat.

  “Now, foolish one, obey my orders, and quickly!” Kato Harada hissed. “I heard him say you saved his life once today. Well, I am going to give you a chance to save it again. Also your own!”

  Young Randall gulped, knew that he was staring up into the glittering eyes of death itself, and reached out fumbling fingers for the coil of wire. And with trembling hands that seemed to be all thumbs, he twisted the wire about Jimmy Joyce’s ankles, and then, under Harada’s instructions, bound Joyce’s wrists with the other end of the wire. He fumbled badly with that part of the job, because he could not keep his eyes off the tiny trickle of blood that seeped down from the swelling on Joyce’s right temple.

  “There, that’s good enough!” Harada snapped. “Now, pick him up, and carry him over to your plane.”

  Red stayed half crouched on the ground and stared at the Japanese wide-eyed.