by Len Levinson
“We'd better stay here and keep those Japs out of the cave. Open fire when I give you the word.”
The men lay on their bellies behind the trees and worked the bolts of their submachine guns. They could see the terrain in front of the cave clearly from where they were, but they couldn't see very far down the hill. They could hear the Japanese soldiers shouting, though. It wouldn't be long before they came into view.
Lieutenant Karuma rushed up the hill in front of his men, brandishing his samurai sword, his mind wild with conjecture. He tripped over a vine and fell on his face, but got up quickly and continued running.
“There they are!” somebody shouted.
Lieutenant Karuma looked and saw American soldiers pouring out of the cave. “Open fire!” he screamed.
His men raised their rifles and fired at the Americans, who swerved to the side and headed toward the jungle.
“Charge!” screamed Lieutenant Karuma.
He slipped on a patch of mud and fell down again, nearly decapitating the soldier to his left, but was helped to his feet by an old sergeant and bounded forward to lead the charge. Lieutenant Karuma's teeth were bared and a bit of froth was on his lower lip. His eyes glowered with rage as he rushed up the hill, anxious to get into the cave. The Americans must have placed explosive charges in there; there was no other reason for them to assault the ammunition dump, and Lieutenant Karuma wanted to disarm the explosives before they went off.
He knew that the explosives might detonate while he was in the cave, and he might be killed, but he didn't care about his own life. He only cared about serving his Emperor. It would be a glorious thing to die for the Emperor. An officer could ask for nothing more.
Ahead he saw the mouth of the cave. It was only fifteen yards away, up a steep incline. He was almost there. Maybe he could save the ammunition.
Then suddenly automatic weapons fire opened up in the jungle to Lieutenant Karuma's right, and the air filled with zinging bullets, which cut down some of his men. The rest of them dropped down to their bellies, but Lieutenant Karuma was a maniac and he continued his rush toward the mouth of the cave, not caring about his life, eager to save the ammunition. Bullets whizzed around him, but miraculously none hit him. He was only a few feet from the mouth of the cave when the fuses inside sizzled into the blasting caps and set them off.
The ground shook so violently beneath Lieutenant Karuma's feet that he lost his balance, while at the same time he heard the loudest and most painful sound of his life. It sounded as if the heavens had opened up and all the gods were roaring at once. Lieutenant Karuma fell to the side as a gigantic tongue of flame roared over his head and singed his hair and eyebrows. The whole mountain shook, and Lieutenant Karuma thought for a moment that the world was coming to an end. Bolts of lightning shot out through fissures in the mountain, and huge chunks of rock were blown loose, rolling down the hill toward Lieutenant Karuma and his men.
The explosions seemed to go on forever, as each explosion set off more explosions. Machine-gun bullets shot around inside their crates, while huge numbers of artillery shells blasted away the interior of the cave, weakening the walls, threatening the structural integrity of the mountain. Lieutenant Karuma thought the horror would never stop. He looked up and saw a huge boulder six feet wide rolling toward him, and he dodged out of the way. The boulder crushed several of his men as it thundered down the hill, and then Lieutenant Karuma looked up to see another boulder, twice as big as the other one, heading toward him.
Lieutenant Karuma screamed and tried to get away. So did many of his men, but not all of them made it. The boulder rolled over them and crushed their bones as it careened down the hill. And the explosions continued. A huge pile of explosives being stockpiled for use by Japanese engineering soldiers blew up at the same time and exploded a hole in the side of the mountain. The top of the mountain danced around and trembled as the explosions went on and on. Tracer bullets fired out through holes in the side of the mountain and made beautiful orange arcs in the white sky. A rock the size of a grapefruit fell to earth a few inches from Lieutenant Karuma's head, scaring the shit out of him. There was noplace for him to run and noplace to hide. It was the most horrific experience of his life, and it seemed as though it would never stop.
But finally it did stop, very suddenly, just when Lieutenant Karuma was certain he was going to die. There was silence for a few moments, and then the weakened walls of the mountain caused it to collapse. The walls caved in, and Lieutenant Karuma felt himself being swallowed up by the ground. He clawed and struggled to break loose, managed to do so, and ran a few steps; then the ground opened up beneath him again. He shrieked in terror and pumped his legs as he tried to break away.
The mountain rumbled as it settled down, and smoke wafted out of the many holes in its crust. Lieutenant Karuma worked his way out of the rock and clods of earth, looked around, and realized the mountain had stopped moving. There was silence. The ordeal was over.
He couldn't find his hat and didn't know what had happened to his samurai sword. All around him men were screaming in pain. He looked up the hill and, because of the mist and smoke, couldn't even see the spot where the cave had been. Enough ammunition had been up there to supply a small army for sixty days of intensive combat, and now it was all gone.
Those filthy Americans, Lieutenant Karuma thought, balling up his fists. They're still on this island someplace, and I'm going to hunt them down if it's the last thing I do.
SIX . . .
A half hour later Lieutenant Karuma and his men were back in camp, walking across the clearing toward the buildings, the healthy carrying the wounded. Lieutenant Karuma approached Major Uchido's office and saw the major lying stiffly on the ground, rigor mortis setting in.
“Sergeant Shinko!” shouted Lieutenant Karuma.
“Yes, sir!”
“Have Major Uchido taken to the hospital!”
“What for, sir? He's already dead!”
“Do as I say!”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Karuma bounded up the steps to Major Uchido's headquarters, paused for a moment, and looked at the mountain. Smoke trailed up into the moonlit sky from its holes; it had shrunken quite a bit from what it was previously. Lieutenant Karuma was still shaken by what had happened up there. He considered himself extremely fortunate to be alive.
He entered Major Uchido's office, lit his cigarette lighter, and touched its flame to the wick in the kerosene lamp on Major Uchido's desk. The room brightened as Lieutenant Karuma looked around at books, magazines, correspondence, and communiques. It's all mine now, Lieutenant Karuma thought. I'm in charge here now.
He sat behind the desk and felt power surge inside him. He'd saluted Major Uchido in this chair many times, and now he was sitting in it, the temporary commander of the base, and maybe if he was persuasive he could remain commander.
He picked up the telephone and told the operator to connect him with Colonel Nishikawa at the Japanese headquarters on New Georgia, located at Munda Point on the other end of the island. While waiting for the connection to go through, Lieutenant Karuma looked at the photograph of Major Uchida's wife and children in a gold frame on the desk. Major Uchida's wife was on the heavy side, just like Major Uchida had been, although Lieutenant Karuma thought her rather attractive. The children were smiling happily, but soon they'd have something to cry about.
Finally Colonel Nishikawa came on the phone. “What is it?” he said testily, because he'd been preparing to go to bed when the call had come through.
“This is Lieutenant Karuma in the Vanguna Valley, sir, and I thought I'd better...”
“Come to the point!” Colorel Nishikawa said impatiently.
“Major Uchida is dead and our ammunition dump has been demolished,” Lieutenant Karuma told him.
“What!”
“Major Uchida is dead, and our...”
“I heard you the first time!”
Lieutenant Karuma furrowed his brows. He hadn't
done anything wrong and already Colonel Nishikawa was mad at him. He wanted to justify has actions but was afraid to open his mouth.
“Lieutenant Karuma?” said Colonel Nishikawa.
“Yes, sir.”
“You're absolutely sure these things have happened?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You're sure you're not mistaken?”
“No, sir.”
Colonel Nishikawa moaned. “I don't believe it. Are you sure all the ammunition is destroyed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, tell me what happened, and please be as brief as you can.”
“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Karuma proceeded to describe the events of the evening: how he'd heard rifle fire and explosions, found Major Uchida shot to death, led his men to the ammunition dump, and so forth. He related only the important highlights of the ordeal, leaving out many of the gruesome details, but managed to make himself sound good as he described how he had rallied his men and tried to save the ammunition.
“But you failed,” Colonel Nishikawa said.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Lieutenant Karuma agreed. “However, it wasn't my fault. Major Uchida was much too lax on security matters, if you will permit me to say so, sir. Many times I complained to him about this problem and urged him to get tougher with the natives in the area, to no avail. Why, only last night one of our artillerymen was stabbed to death by someone wearing American combat boots, and Major Uchida failed to take any action beyond doubling the guard and sending out a few more patrols than usual.”
“What did you expect him to do, put the camp on a full military footing?”
Lieutenant Karuma wanted to say that was exactly what he would have done, but thought better of it. “It seems to me this catastrophe could have been avoided if we'd been more vigilant, sir.”
“That's true. I can't understand how American soldiers could have blown up that dump. Ammunition on this island will be in very short supply now. If the American invasion came tomorrow, we'd be in serious difficulty.”
“Sir,” said Lieutenant Karuma, his paranoia kicking in like high-octane aviation fuel, “maybe the invasion is coming tomorrow.”
“What!”
“Why else would they blow up the ammunition dump tonight? I think we should take full precautions.”
“Maybe you're right. Put your camp on the full military alert. Post lookouts along the beaches in your sector. Beware of acts of sabotage by the natives. Any questions?”
“What about ammunition, sir? We only have ammunition for, I'd estimate, two or three days of fighting.”
‘Tomorrow I'll ship you ammunition from here.”
“And what about the Americans who blew up the ammo dump? What should I do about them?”
“How do you know they were Americans?”
“They wore American army uniforms and they looked like Americans.”
“They could have been natives in American army uniforms, but that doesn't matter. Go after them. Track them down. If you can capture any of them, perhaps you can make them talk.”
“If I catch one of them, I'll make him talk,” Lieutenant Karuma said ominously.
“Good. I like your attitude, Lieutenant Karuma. You'll be in charge of that side of the island until further notice. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Carry out your orders.”
Lieutenant Karuma hung up the telephone, feeling fantastic. He was in charge of the military area and could do whatever he pleased. This was just what he'd always wanted.
“Sergeant Shinko!” he yelled. “Get in here!”
The recon platoon had gotten lost. The iron in the mountains caused Butsko's compass to behave peculiarly, and once they got into the deep, dark jungle, away from familiar landmarks, they didn't know where they were.
Butsko first suspected something was wrong when his instincts told him to go in one direction, while his compass told him to go another. There had been no time to make elaborate calculations, so he just followed the compass.
But now he caught a glimpse of the Big Dipper in the sky, followed it to the North Star, and realized he was heading north instead of east, the direction of Segi Point, where he and his men were supposed to be picked up.
“Take a break!” Butsko told his men. “But no smoking!”
His men dropped to the ground all around him, exhausted, because they'd been on the run ever since they blew up the ammunition dump. Their chests heaved and their jaws hung open. Butsko got down on his knees, covered his head with his poncho, turned on his flashlight, and examined the map and compass together. He still didn't know if the compass was working properly and wasn't sure of where he was on the map. But he didn't have time to sit around and figure things out. Japs would probably come after him before long. He decided to take a rough bearing from the North Star and head in an easterly direction until he had time to check his position more carefully.
He turned off the flashlight and threw the poncho off his head. Looking around, he saw his men sprawled all over the jungle.
“On your feet!” Butsko said.
The men stood while Butsko stuffed his poncho into his pack and lifted his pack to his shoulders. Butsko looked into the sky, found the North Star, and turned east.
“That way!” Butsko said, pointing. “Get going!”
The men crashed into the thick jungle. Butsko glanced behind him and saw curls of smoke trailing up from the mountain to the moonlit sky.
At the camp Lieutenant Karuma and Sergeant Shinko, followed by a detachment of forty men, approached the dog kennels, and the four dogs barked and leaped at the wire fence. They were Doberman pinschers, imported from Germany, trained to be vicious killers. Two handlers entered the cage and tied leashes to the spike-studded collars on two of the dogs.
Lieutenant Karuma turned to Sergeant Shinko. “The Americans cannot be far away. These dogs will pick up their trail and lead you to them. You outnumber the Americans by four to one, maybe more. Wipe them out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you fail, you will be in serious trouble, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get going.”
Sergeant Shinko, a husky man with a grizzled face, waved his arm forward, and his men headed for the mountain where the ammunition dump had been. Leading them were the two dogs straining at their leashes, each leash held in the hand of a trainer. The dogs howled and drooled, excited about being let out of their cages, knowing there was blood for them somewhere in the jungle.
Lieutenant Karuma watched them disappear into the jungle at the edge of the camp, then turned and walked erectly back to his office. He wanted to draw up a list of local village chiefs whom he intended to execute publicly as an example to all the other natives in the vicinity.
There was a spring and sprightliness to his step as he crossed the camp. Deep in his heart he was glad that Americans had blown up the ammunition dump, because their deed had brought him to the position of power that he'd always believed he deserved.
The solid ground in the jungle became mushy, and soon the GIs found themselves on the outskirts of a swamp. Butsko looked at the map and found the swamp wasn't marked on it. He had no idea of how to get through it or around it. A thick cloud of mosquitoes floated around him and his men as he tried to figure out what to do.
“We'll try this way,” Butsko said, slapping a mosquito that had landed on his cheek.
They veered to the left and tried to work around the swamp, but couldn't find any solid ground. This forced them to swing out wider and wider, but again there was only more swamp, with a horrible odor and water and muck that came up to their knees. It was an effort for the men to lift their feet out of the suction of the mud, and Butsko couldn't even backtrack, because he suspected the Japs would try to catch up with them before long. He looked up at the North Star and decided to keep moving in an easterly direction. The swamp would have to end sooner or later.
“That way,” Butsko said, pointing.
“But that's in the middle of the swamp!” Frankie said angrily. Mosquitoes were eating him alive; he was tired, and becoming cranky.
“That's the way we're going,” Butsko said. “Get fucking moving.”
Frankie hesitated. “Why don't we go back the way we came?”
“Because I don't want to run into any Japs.”
“I'd rather face Japs than this goddamn swamp.”
“I don't care what you'd rather face. Do what I say.”
Under normal circumstances Frankie would have done as he was told, but those weren't normal circumstances. “What if I don't?” Frankie snarled.
Butsko raised his submachine gun suddenly and pushed its muzzle under Frankie's nose. “I'll blow your fucking head off.”
Frankie took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Lead the way, Big Sergeant.”
The GIs sloshed through the murky water, holding then-submachine guns high so they wouldn't get wet. Many of the trees in the swamp had died long ago but still stood eerily, denuded of leaves, stark and gloomy in the dark swamp. Mist rose from the water along with noxious fumes, and tangled bushes covered with thorns dotted the area.
Bannon smashed the palm of his hand against his forehead and killed three mosquitoes at once. When he removed his hand he saw them and blood on his palm. This island is the worst place I've ever been in my life, he thought. It's like hell on earth.
He heard something splash in the swamp not far away and turned his machine gun in that direction. Everybody else heard it and was looking too.
“What the fuck was that?” Bannon said.
“Probably a fish,” the Reverend Billie Jones replied, because he caught catfish and muskies in the swamps of Georgia.
Something splashed in the water on the other side of them, and they spun around.
“Sounds like there's a lot of fish around here,” Billie Jones said. “Maybe we should try to catch a few, because rations sure are getting short.”
“Sure are,” agreed Homer Gladley.
Bannon saw movement in the water in front of him. It looked like something big was swimming toward him. He bent forward to get a better view and saw the moonlight glinting on something that looked like a gigantic tooth. Bannon's hair stood on end.