by Chris Glatte
The C-47’s engines shut down and the big props came to reluctant stops. The sounds of the wind through the palms returned. The side door opened and he saw silhouettes moving against the darkness. Personnel. The ladder extended and he watched as the first person, a man dressed in new green Army fatigues, walked on stiff legs to the second step then turned and extended a hand as if to help another passenger. A woman, he thought.
He watched as the figure stepped from the darkness and took the man’s hand. She had to duck, but once she was on the first step she squinted, shielded her eyes and looked around.
Carver knew her instantly and he couldn’t believe his eyes. Lilly! She wore a long Army issue skirt and had a lieutenant’s hat sitting askew on her full head of lustrous brown hair. Without knowing what he was doing, he moved toward her, spellbound. He never took his eyes off her.
She didn’t see him but finished walking down the steps with her hand in the other officer’s. When she was on the ground she pulled her hand and the officer reluctantly released her.
When Carver was halfway to her, he panicked, what am I doing? He stopped but couldn’t make himself look away. She was so beautiful, shimmering in the midday sun like an angel. She finally saw him standing there gawking and for an instant they both froze not knowing what to do. She put her hand to her mouth and ran to him. He was frozen in place. She extended her arms and threw herself into his arms. “Doug, oh Doug, it’s really you.”
He wrapped her up and lifted her off the ground. It felt like a dream he never wanted to wake from. “Lilly, oh Lilly. My God it’s really you.” He swung her around and she gripped him like her life depended on it.
He finally put her down and she pushed back and gripped his face between her hands. Streaks of tears moistened her cheeks and he wiped them away. He smelled her scent, her sweet smell and it intoxicated him. He suddenly remembered protocol and looked around for the other officer. He was walking away quickly. “Might’ve got you in trouble.”
She flung her head back and her hat fell into the dirt. Her thick auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders. She smiled up at him. “I don’t care about any of that. I love you Doug Carver!”
The words righted all the wrongs. The war, the killing, the loss, all vanished and was replaced with his soul overflowing with love for the woman in his arms. “I love you too, Lilly James.”
Sam Santos sat alone in the early morning darkness of his inherited home. The ramshackle hut he’d grown up in always seemed bright and full of life, but now he saw it for what it was, dank and lonely. The normal smells of food percolating on the wood fired oven mixed with the scent of flowers which he could never find, was missing. He stared into the soft glow of the yellow flames and wondered where his sister was. He looked to the only room off the main living area. It was a dark cavern. He expected to see his sister’s bright smile at any instant as she emerged with disheveled hair crossing her face and getting caught in her mouth. He sighed and felt his loneliness deepen.
There was a soft knock at the door. He realized he’d been hearing it for quite some time. He shook himself from his thoughts of better days and went to the door. He opened it slowly and saw a boy standing patiently. “Hello, Anthony.”
Anthony smiled. He’d been a resistance fighter during the occupation. He’d fought alongside Sam despite his young age. Sam flashed on memories of Anthony firing his M1 rifle which seemed far too big and heavy for his frail frame. He’d been terrified to fight, but like many others, rose to the call when he was needed.
Seeing him now in his doorway, Sam realized how impossibly young he was. Sam was a teenager, but Anthony should still be playing in the dirt with wooden soldiers, not toting a rifle and playing for real. “It’s time to go, Mr. Santos.” His voice was that of a child.
Sam nodded. “I’m ready. Lead the way.”
They walked through the streets. The morning light was brightening the town, promising another hot and humid day. As they neared the town’s center more and more Filipinos joined them, until soon there was a parade of citizens. The feeling was somber as they trudged to the heart of the city. Sam greeted those he knew with nods and brief hellos. No one came too close, leaving him space as if he were somehow contagious. It’ll soon be over.
The town’s center had been cleaned up months before. The wide open space was now mostly filled with a large, new structure. Sam hadn’t seen it yet. He stopped and looked up at the towering scaffolding. It was stoutly made with gleaming wood planks. He wondered how long it would stand. What would they use the wood for once it had served its purpose. Will the wood be haunted?
He moved through the crowd, people parting and looking down as he passed. He stood at the front, looking up at the structure. Do I want to see this? No! But I must. He scanned the crowd and saw Felipe staring back at him. He was standing at the base of the structure. Sam hadn’t seen him since they’d come out of the jungle. Felipe hadn’t spoken a word to him. Sam understood that he was disappointed in him, but now his gaze looked more sinister, as if he was staring at the enemy. Sam looked away.
The crowd got quiet when the Mayor of the city, Domingo Constantine walked up the stairs and stood on the platform and gazed out over them. He raised his hands as if to quell the applause that wasn’t there. “Citizens of Cebu City. Today we bring to justice those found guilty of treason. These men have caused pain and suffering to their fellow Filipinos that is even more cruel than the Japanese occupiers themselves, because they were our friends and neighbors. Our brothers, fathers, cousins, uncles and grandparents. They chose to help the occupiers instead of standing with their own. When the darkness descended on our island, they chose to abandon us. They should not be pitied but hated. They deserve death.”
Silence. If his speech was intended to rile the crowd, it had the opposite effect. There was a murmur and a rustle as the crowd parted off to the right, forming a corridor. Sam saw his brother, Berto leading the ragtag group. Their hands were tied behind their backs and they shuffled, dragging chains that gouged into their ankles. They got halfway through the line of citizens before the first obscenity was heard, followed by another and another, then someone lashed out with a thin strip of bamboo and whacked the side of Berto’s arm. Berto flinched as bright blood seeped from the gash, but he kept his head down, shuffling faster. Soon there were rocks and rotten food flying. They were spit on and punched. When they finally made it to the base of the scaffolding they were covered in blood and dirt.
Sam marveled at the change in his brother. He’d been proud, the first to fight when he felt wronged, but now he stared at his feet, not able to lift a finger in his own defense. Sam imagined the prisoners hadn’t been treated well since their capture.
Felipe marched the first five in the group, up the steps. Berto was first in line. He stopped at the far end of the scaffolding and stood beneath the rope that hung just above his head. Sam watched him intently, not knowing if he wanted him to look up or not. He felt conflicted. Part of him wanted to beat him until he was dead, the other wanted to forgive him and be a family again. The shivering, bleeding person about to be hung was all the family he had left.
Berto didn’t look up until Felipe’s assistant reached up and pulled the slack from the rope and wrapped the noose around his neck. His eyes scanned the crowd. Sam was frozen in place as he watched his brother searching the crowd. His eyes finally found Sam. Sam stared back.
The last time he saw him was in the jungle. Sam had a pistol then but chose not to kill his only brother. Now, months later, Berto looked emaciated and weak, but his eyes still burned. Sam straightened his back and forced himself not to look away. It was as if the crowd disappeared and only Sam and Berto were there, staring. Sam didn’t know how long it lasted, it seemed like a life-time.
Finally, Berto looked away, back down to his feet. The mayor was on the pedestal talking about treachery and justice, but Sam didn’t hear him. He was still staring at his brother. A part of him wanted to run up the ramp and free hi
m, but he knew that was impossible. His brother was doomed to die by hanging and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The mayor finally stopped speaking and the crowd went silent. When Felipe’s assistant offered Berto the cover for his head, Berto shook his head. He brought his eyes up again and found Sam still staring. Berto’s eyes softened. He seemed to plead forgiveness.
Sam grit his teeth. Does he deserve forgiveness? He killed Lola and doomed Yelina to a fate worse than death. But he was still his brother. Just before Felipe pulled the lever which opened the floor and sent Berto to his death, Sam softened his gaze and gave a slight nod. As Berto dropped, seemingly in slow motion, his eyes conveyed sorrow. Sam closed his eyes when the rope went tight and snapped Berto’s neck. He quickly turned and left, not wanting to see his brother swinging, convulsing and shitting.
The news of Platoon Sergeant Carver’s woman arriving made O’Connor happy for his old friend. He’d watched him the past few weeks slipping into a dark depression. He was glad to see him renewed. He wasn’t an easy man to find, however. Carver and Lilly were inseparable. The only time he saw him without her was when she was on duty in the base hospital, or he had to attend to some piece of company business.
Seeing Carver’s happiness deepened his own sense of loss. He could feel himself falling into a dark place. He tried to ignore the pain eating away at his insides. He tried to convince himself that what he had with Celine Cruz wasn’t what he thought. After all, they’d only been together once, and as magical as that night had been, it wasn’t the basis for a lifetime. He told himself all those things, yet he still couldn’t erase her from his mind. He had to do something to break the hold she had on him.
He hadn’t left the base since he was wounded for fear of seeing things and people that would remind him of her, but he decided it was time to face it. Perhaps the experience of standing over her grave would somehow help him get over his grief.
He left the compound in the morning before the brutal heat. He walked through the streets of Cebu City. There were few Filipino citizens around. He wondered why. The only evidence of the war, were the occasional bombed out building or passing Jeep or troop transport.
He wandered the streets for an hour, not talking to anyone. The streets remained strangely empty. He started to search for signs indicating a cemetery. He saw a lone Filipino walking down the center of the street, staring down as if deep in thought. O’Connor thought he looked familiar. He stopped and watched him. As he got closer, recognition dawned. “Sam? Sam, is that you?” The Filipino stopped and looked up at him. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. O’Connor’s face turned concerned. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Sam shook his head. “Justice. I should be happy.” He shook his head, “But he was my brother.” He told O’Connor about the hanging.
O’Connor put his hand on his shoulder. “No one should be happy to watch their brother die. No matter what they did to deserve it.”
Sam nodded and wiped his eyes. He studied O’Connor. “Where have you been? I’ve not seen you. I assumed you were killed or wounded.”
“I was wounded.” He pulled up his shirt and showed his puckered pink scar on his side. “I’ve stayed in the compound recovering. This is my first time venturing out. Lucky to bump into you.” Sam nodded and smiled. O’Connor remembered that smile, it was good to see. “Say, I was wondering if you know anything about Celine … I mean Major Cruz.” His voice cracked but he recovered. “I’d like to pay my respects. Maybe lay some flowers by her grave. It would mean a lot to me.”
Sam looked confused. “Her grave?” He shook his head. “She’s not dead. She’s alive!” Emotions flooded his senses. Anger that Sam would tease him, then confusion, then a flash of fear, then hope. His face flushed deep red and he felt his fingers tingling. He couldn’t find words. Sam’s grin went even wider and he gripped O’Connor’s arm. “Come on, I’ll take you to her!”
O’Connor ran behind Sam as he wove through the city. They were nearly sprinting when they pulled up in front of a ramshackle building. They were both breathing hard. Sam spoke between gasps. “She’s inside teaching.”
O’Connor felt like he was outside his body as he strode to the doorway. He peered inside and saw it was a one room schoolhouse.
He stood in the door-frame willing his eyes to adjust to the low light. When he could finally see, he saw a group of Filipino children staring at him. Their tiny brown faces filled with wonder at the tall American. A book slammed on the ground from the front of the room, making O’Connor flinch. He focused on the diminutive form of the teacher who’d dropped the textbook. She stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost. A yelp escaped her lips, then she ran to him and leaped into his arms and their lips locked onto each other. The children started hooting and laughing, but O’Connor could only hear the rushing of blood coursing through his ears.
Afterword
Thank you for reading the 164th Regiment Series. It’s been a pleasure learning and writing about these valiant soldiers. They were one the first Army units to go on the offensive against the Japanese. Their heroism and truly astonishing ability to power through awful circumstances leaves me in awe.
The 164th series has come to a natural end but that doesn’t mean the end to more gritty combat novels.
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Chrisglatte.com
Also by Chris Glatte
Operation: Cakewalk - A 164th Regiment Novella
Across The Channel - A WWII Novel