It was simple, really. All Lucian had to do was run the boiler tanks low of water, release a valve, and then allow the heat to build pressure in the tank. Then it would blow up.
“The coal box water level has to be above the crown sheet,” he explained in whispers to Manuelito. “If the water level falls below a certain level the crown sheet ruptures and we have a catastrophic explosion. We have seconds to get off before it blows.”
“Your brother said you would know how to do it. Critical we do it at the Santa Rosa highway crossing. There we can jump and my boys have machine guns, mortars. They will kill all Japs and get us out safe.”
“I understand.” Lucian nodded in whispers. “What about these guys?”
“I push one and you push the other. Look at them. So sure of themselves. One hit with the shovel, one push with the hand and they go flying off the train.” Manuelito Salazar smiled as he loaded coal from the tender into the burning coal box.
Lucian smiled confidently at the small man’s plan. He held a pipe wrench up. Left inside the cab carelessly by the engineer’s seat, Manuelito knew Lucian’s intention, how he planned to use it, and nodded.
“What’s keeping them?” Norman grumbled, hunched over in the underbrush closest to the tracks.
“Maybe Americans hit train from air,” replied the Filipino who Norman called Geronimo for his features and savage ways of getting revenge.
“Let’s hope not. Good thing it’s getting dark. It will help.” Norman looked down at his watch. Nineteen hundred hours—the sun was setting.
Norman picked up on it first. The slight perception all train men pick up on. A vibration on the rails, a rumble of the tracks, followed by the thunder of a locomotive. Even miles away a real train man knows when the track is filled with thousands of pounds of a steam engine headed his way.
The whistle blew faintly but distinctly in the distance. Geronimo gave his men hand signals. Once Lucian and Manuelito were clear of the train and it blew they would open fire.
A full moon was all that would offer enough illumination to tell who was who when the actual escape took place. But Norman was certain Lucian would be at the controls if Manuelito had made it aboard. They would have heard from Manuelito by now if he had failed in his plan.
The whistle was clear now. Two, maybe three kilometers, down the line. Three blows … followed by two blows of the horn … pause … three blows … “It’s him!” Norman grinned excitedly.
Norman was impatient. His hands wrung with perspiration. Two and a half years since they had held onto each other in the Death March. Lucian saved his life then. He waited anxiously to do the same for his brother now.
“Come on, Lucian. Lower that water pressure. Blow that baby!” Norman instructed inaudibly. “Make those rivets pop! You can do it!”
Norman could smell the familiar but pungent odor wafting his way from the smokestack. One minute later the locomotive’s headlamp was clearly visible, appearing from a bend in the tracks. The guerillas looked at their watches. They had ten minutes to pull this off and then escape into the forest before local Japanese army units were alerted by the sounds of gunfire and explosions.
Manuelito trustingly looked over at Lucian working on the gauges. He watched Lucian’s eyes as he monitored the sight-glass and pressure guage.
Lucian had told him the water pressure must drop rapidly under two hundred pounds per square inch. Now he was sweating profusely from the heat in the cab and the pressure of needing to do this right. It was their escape and the final payment to Japs who had imprisoned and killed so many of them. Especially this Jap guard who deserved to die. Promised revenge, the payment for Johnny Mead’s death, was coming due.
Lucian nodded and grinned to Manuelito as the gauges told their story to him. Manuelito pretended to load coal into the fire.
Lucian moved his lips and worded his message to Manuelito who paid close attention. It was all timing. Important and crucial timing.
“When I count to ten with my fingers we push the guards out the door and follow. This thing should blow within a hundred yards either side of the crossing. You have to move as fast as you can. When it blows it’s gonna send pieces of this train in all directions. It’s one big bomb under immense pressure. You understand?” he whispered.
Manuelito nodded and readied himself to give the Jap guarding his door of the cab a wack with the handle of his coal shovel. He looked forward to the moment. Lucian handled the large pipe wrench kept at the engineer’s control panel. He would help this lousy murdering scum Jap into the next world with pleasure for what he had done to his cousin more than two years ago. With a crack to the back of the skull or square in the face, it didn’t matter to him.
He’d enjoy this payback as he buried the wrench in his head, shoved him out, then followed with a jump. Then he would clear the tracks before any of the Japanese riding in the box and flat cars knew what was happening. He’d let the train head on down the tracks and explode. Then he’d look for his brother and together they would find their way north to the American lines.
His heart beat now with anticipation for the escape and the reunion. They had made it! Over half of all men captured were dead now and they were both alive! It felt like every child’s Christmas gift rolled into one.
He blew the whistle long and loud now that the crossing was in sight. He was sure Norman would recognize his game. Three yanks on the whistle followed by two followed by three. An old code they had used back in Oklahoma. Norman would know it was him.
Lucian reached for the heavy pipe wrench, looked at Manuelito who nodded, then tugged at the trousers of the Jap who had killed his cousin.
“This is for Johnny!” he smiled coldly as the startled guard turned to face him. Lucian swung hard with both hands grasping the hammer like tool. The stunned guard staggered and began to crumble from the solid blow to his mouth and nose. Blood spurted from the place where teeth and nose had been. “Time for you to go,” Lucian announced with satisfaction, giving the crumpled body a kick with his feet and then watching as it rolled like a broken doll into stagnant pools of water off the track. He turned to see how his companion was faring.
“Manuelito! Look out!”
Norman smiled and looked over to Geronimo. “It’s him. His signal. Let the men know. Nobody fires until I get him off the tracks and safely under cover. Understood?”
“Sure thing, Joe. You hurry. We gonna kill lots of damn Japs tonight.”
“When the boiler blows on that train it’s gonna kill a lot of Japs too. You just finish the job. My brother and me will take off to the agreed rendevous north of Santa Rosa.”
“No sweat, Joe,” Geronimo nodded and passed his signal along. “Nobody fires guns until I fire.”
“Good. Okay. Here we go,” Norman replied. “I’m goin’ for my brother,” he said and darted from cover along the tracks in the direction of the oncoming train.
He huffed heavily with anticipation of seeing Lucian fly out of the cab and roll off into the tall grass along the tracks. The elephant grass he was running through offered excellent camouflage for both of them once he pulled his brother under his arms.
He was carrying a Thompson submachine gun on this trip. The army had air dropped the guerillas a new cache of weapons just days before. He was angry and ready to kill but Lucian was his top priority.
He was almost to the point where he expected Lucian to knock the guard out and follow him. The last time they were together Lucian had supported him from collapsing during the Death March. He had held him up. Lucian had been the strong one. Now the roles had changed. Norman, wounded at Cabanatuan, had treated his own injuries, removed with Filipino help the shrapnel from his shoulder. This time, this reunion of the brothers, was Norman’s turn to carry the load.
Hunched down in the grass now he stopped short one hundred yards away as the train approached. Fifty yards. One guard out and down on the tracks! “Good job Lucian!” he said happily against the oncoming noise.
Manuelito struggled with the Jap guard who had turned suddenly at the commotion in the cab caused by Lucian’s quick dispatching of his guard. Manuelito pulled a knife from his boot and jabbed deeply into the enemy soldier’s chest, a surprised look of shock registering on the enemy as he looked down to see the Filipino plunge the knife repeatedly into his body. The Jap guard finally crumbled and fell out the door as the train kept moving down the tracks.
“Lucian! You go! Go now! Jump!”
“The boiler! Something’s wrong. The pressure is all wrong. The gauge shouldn’t be reading this. It should be down fifty more pounds! The sight-glass shows the water is escaping. This thing is gonna blow but I …”
“Lucian you go now!” the loyal Filipino repeated and pushed him to the the opening. Lucian hesitated.
“Sorry, Joe. But you going now,” Manuelito said, shoving him off the slowing train. He turned and put the brakes on and then readied himself to jump.
“Lucian! Lucian! Over here!” Norman stood tall in the grass and waved as he began running toward his limping skeletal-looking brother.
“Norm? Thank God. Norm!” He strained as he limped off the tracks, headed in the direction of his sprinting brother. Even the night couldn’t disguise the form of his twin image.
Lucian stopped to see the train go by wondering why it hadn’t blown and realized Manuelito was still in the cab working the release gauge.
“Manuelito, get off! Jump! Let it go! Get off!” Lucian stood and yelled as the engine passed. The little man saw him, nodded, and then headed for the door opening.
“Lucian, get down!” Norman yelled as he dove for his brother. Covering him, he raised his head to see the image of Manuelito in the door. Then the fiery yellow explosion ripping the engine to shreds caused the loyal Filipino to completely disappear in a fireball engulfing the engine.
“We got to help Manuelito!” Lucian struggled, trying to raise himself and run to the wreckage.
“Lucian, dammit! He’s gone. It’s gone! The train ain’t no more. If he made it he’ll meet us. Come on!”
“Okay. Okay. Norm. Is it really you?” he asked, breathing heavily, stumbling to his knees and then up again to make the run. Tears, confusion, joy, all mixed freely as they held each other tightly.
“It’s me. Come on.” Sounds of rage and weapons filled the air as the Filipino troops fired on the Japanese soldiers trying to escape from the boxcars. They were cut down, each as he moved to the door. The massacre had begun and this time the good guys were doing the job of slaughter. An explosion from a dynamite charge sent a flat car loaded with soldiers hurtling into the air. As quickly as the cacophony of violence filled the countryside air it ceased.
Norman hustled his brother off the tracks and into the bushes. They stumbled for several yards before the unexpected took place. Standing in a line of wonderment at the sudden explosive commotion so close to them, a patrol of Japanese soldiers began to move into their path heading for the tracks.
“Hit the ground!” Norm commanded Lucian, letting him fall from the support of one shoulder. Taking his Thompson off his other shoulder he lowered it at the stunned Japanese soldiers and began firing staccato bursts, dropping them quickly.
“The SOB’s didn’t stand a chance against the Parker brothers,” he offered mockingly, coldly, as he helped the shaken and nervous Lucian to his feet. “Come on. Let’s head off in another direction.”
“I’m proud of you, Norm,” Lucian strained to say as he nervously, flimsily, got to his feet and grabbed hold of Norman for support. He turned his head to look back at Norman’s handiwork just paces from the dead Japanese soldiers.
“Norman!” he screamed, putting himself in front of his brother.
Pop! The clanking of a bolt action sounded from behind as Lucian lurched forward, taking the shot meant for his brother.
Pop! Blasting again from the movement of the enemy rifle’s bolt action. Norman was down now.
Norman rolled away from his brother to draw the fire to him. He dropped the sling from his shouldered Thompson submachine gun, turned, and aimed into the darkness. A wounded but determined shadow, a Japanese soldier, headed for them. Norman let go a burst of rapid fire upon the shadow, crumbling the enemy soldier in a heap to the ground.
Lucian groaned. “Oh dammit, Norm. They got me good this time. They up and got me good!”
Norman felt at his own head. He’d been grazed and was bleeding. The single bullet created a neat and bloody crease cutting along his temple above the right eye and into his scalp. A fraction of an inch more and he’d have been dead. His left hand stung and bled. He grabbed a well-worn handkerchief from his trousers and instructed Lucian to hold it to his wounded upper body.
“Okay, Lucian. My turn. We gotta run for it. I’ll go a few hundred yards and put you down to dress the wound. It’s gonna be a long night. We got to get away and we got to move fast,” he said, scooping his brother into his arms. “Doggone it Lucian. You hang in there. It’s almost over.”
“You get the ring?”
“Huh?” Norman huffed as he brought his slender and frail brother up to his chest from off the ground.
“I gave Manuelito the ring. He was supposed to get it to you.”
“Hush. I got ya now. Forget the ring. It’s over now. It’s all over with,” he grunted and began running with his wounded twin through the jungle brush for the appointed rendevous.
CHAPTER 57
February 1945, Army Field Hospital Outside Manila
“Lucian?” Norman whispered. “Lucian,” he struggled again with all the energy left in his war-worn body.
“Yeah,” his twin brother exhaled heavily.
“I want to go home,” he said.
“Me, too,” Lucian struggled to say.
“We can do this—we can make it. I want you to make it—not give up. I’m not leaving without you,” he said.
“I’m tryin’, Norm. It hurts. The Japs got me good this time. I’m so tired. So very tired.”
“It’s almost over. You can do it. Remember what Mama always said? When we’d leave for a trip on the rails with Pa?”
Lucian’s trembling hand reached out and held on to his brother’s across the narrow aisle separating the two cots in the field hospital outside Manila where the fighting still raged.
“Keep the faith,” he responded, repeating it over and over. “Keep the faith … keep the … Ohh, it hurts.” He winced, struggling for breath like a sprinter catching his air after running the fastest mile of his career. “Did Manuelito get you my letter and the ring?” he finally forced from his lungs.
“Manuelito didn’t make it,” Norman strained in a throaty effort to encourage his twin. “Hold on, Lucian. Just a little longer. We got Pa waitin’, expectin’ us. Pa needs us for the shortline—the steel beast—it’s paid for. The land, it’s gotta be all paid up by now. We gotta go home,” he squeezed out, gritting his teeth against his own fatigue and pain. “Mary Jane’s waiting,” he encouraged.
“Norm?” Lucian’s malarial voice begged. “Norman?” the gravelly throat stumbled again. “We sure showed ’em didn’t we? I killed the Jap who killed Johnny. Did I tell you?” he struggled to say.
“Nope. That’s good, Lucian. Real good.”
“Yep. Kept my promise, didn’t I,” he coughed, trying to smile. “We didn’t give up, did we Norm?”
“Sure enough didn’t, brother. You hold on,” Norman replied softly but with great effort.
“Mary Jane … if I don’t … you tell her, give her …” Lucian sighed shakily before falling into well-deserved unconscious slumber—the chills, shakes, fevered perspiration, fleeing from him as suddenly as they had come on.
Norman gazed over at his twin through moist battle-weary eyes. Wounded days before while leading American Rangers to the jungle prison that had held his brother for almost three years, he was relieved to see the end of their nightmare. He groaned in pain from the shrapnel wounds he had ignored to save his brother, woun
ds now ravaging his already skeletal upper body. And then there was the bullet creasing his skull—offering the mother of all headaches and mental confusion.
Every contagion under the Philippine sky had rained on him, his brother, and other army survivors of the death camps. He still suffered from dysentery. Both he and Lucian dealt with malaria as best they could now.
“Nurse. Nurse,” Norman called. “Morphine? More morphine for my brother and me? Please?” he begged as the slender woman passed their cots, clipboard in hand.
She stopped and bent over, checking his head. Her hand was the touch of angel to him now. “Mary Jane,” he whispered. The nurse smiled and promised to return shortly.
“Norm?” Lucian roused, breathing almost inaudibly now. “Norm—I love you like life. We showed ’em. We never gave up, did we?” His lips were dry as he struggled to wet them to form the next words. “Mary Jane … you won’t forget?” he groaned.
“When I forget how to think, breathe, smell the air of home,” Norman answered, wearily taking the limp right hand of his brother in his left. He whispered the promise again like a sacred vow, “I won’t forget.”
“Norm?” Lucian roused, suddenly turning a weak head toward his wounded brother. “You got the ring? Manuelito?” he asked with a groan.
“I …” Norman was suffering as much delirium, fever, and fighting for life as was Lucian. He understood what the ring had meant to his brother. It was the family keepsake, their symbol of trying to make things work out between them with Mary Jane.
“Never forget,” Lucian broke in, his muttering more subdued now.
“What?” Norman groaned in reply.
“Why … the ring … How much I loved …” he sighed as expression from his face released, air deflating from his lungs.
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