Along the Broken Bay

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Along the Broken Bay Page 9

by Flora J. Solomon


  His laugh brought on a paroxysm of coughs.

  Gina’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “A breath of fresh air,” he wheezed. “Everybody’s been pussyfooting around me. It’s good to see you, Gina. I’m top notch. Clara here rescued me, didn’t you, honey?” He waggled his finger toward a sturdy woman standing nearby, counting supplies and vials of medicines.

  “I sure did. I thought he was a dead deer in the weeds and almost walked by, but then he moaned. I stuck him with morphine and packed him on the back of my mule. Finding this camp with a doctor was serendipity or divine intervention, depending on your beliefs. Personally, I think someone up there is looking out for him.”

  Davy tried to sit up but fell back and began to shiver.

  Though Gina covered him with blankets, his tremors became more violent. He tried to speak, but Gina only recognized the word Cheryl.

  “What about Cheryl, Davy? Is there something I need to know?” He didn’t respond, and Gina waved Clara over. “I think he’s in pain. Isn’t there something . . . ,” she started to ask, but Clara was already by the bedside with her syringe of morphine.

  “This will put him to sleep.” She administered the drug. “I’m going to change his dressings while he’s out. I have to debride some wounds. It’s not pretty. You may want to step outside for a smoke.”

  “I’ll stay and help.”

  “I’d rather you not. You look pale, and I don’t have time to watch you faint. Go get some fresh air.”

  Gina was glad to get away from the smell and gore. However, the sun beating on the porch made it hotter than Hades. She was breathing hard and felt light headed. She diverted her attention by looking around, seeing Clara’s mule tethered to a tree and Edna in the garden picking green beans for tonight’s meal. Maggie had scratched a grid into the dirt and was teaching the younger girls how to play hopscotch. Gina tried to concentrate on Cheryl tossing a stone onto a grid and hopping in a pattern around it, but overhead a flock of screeching crows caught her eye, and she watched them circle over something they’d spotted on the ground.

  In a blink Gina’s memory flashed back to Bataan, where the crows had been circling and cawing, the flies buzzing, and the stench of death so rank she had breathed through her mouth. As clear as real life, Gerald Kent’s dead body lay at her feet with one blue eye half-open. Gina bent down over the body to close the eye; his skin was cold and rubbery to her touch.

  Clara stepped onto the porch.

  Gina jumped up, and Gerald Kent’s body disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Confused as to what had just happened, she patted her chest and took a deep breath. “Just a little light headed. Seeing Davy was more of a shock than I thought. Is he going to recover?”

  “He’ll live. He may not walk. Don’t tell him, not yet. Just surviving’s enough until he’s stronger.”

  Clara didn’t know Davy’s determination, and Gina couldn’t imagine him bound to a wheelchair. She asked, “Where did you find him?”

  “By the side of the road between here and Katana. I’ve been traveling these mountain trails for a few months. My husband and I ran a clinic over by Angeles. He and one of our nurses were killed by the Japs while I was out back in the privy. When they left, I grabbed all the drugs and dressings I could carry on the back of that mule. I’ll stay in these mountains until my supplies run out. There are hundreds of soldiers like Davy around.”

  Gina visited Davy often, at first bringing books from Marcus’s meager library to read to him. As Davy grew stronger, he wanted to talk, and she listened to his stories about the men in his unit, some of whom had been killed or were missing. He sometimes cried and then apologized for being weak. When he spoke of Sissy and Harry, his voice was fervent. “If the Japs find out they are my family, it won’t go well for them. I have to get them out of there.”

  Not an easy task. Gina knew of only three prisoners who had escaped from Santo Tomas, and they had been caught, tortured, and killed, the whole camp a witness.

  As soon as his wounds were healed, determined to walk, Davy began to exercise his legs, instructing Gina how to add resistance. Soon he was crawling and, in time, hobbling on two canes Marcus had made for him.

  One day he hobbled outside by himself and sat in Edna’s chair, a great accomplishment. Gina joined him. Together they watched three squirrels play tag in the trees. After a time, she reached over, took his hand, and asked the question of which she’d been curious. “Were you one of the men marching, Davy? I was there. I saw some of it.” She clenched her jaw to keep from elaborating. This wasn’t her story. She felt his hand squeezing hers.

  “No. I wouldn’t surrender. I hid in the hills. There was a handful of us. We helped the prisoners escape by hiding them in hollow trees or obscure caves. A Jap patrol caught up with me later and did this.” He waved his hand over his body. “They left me for dead. But miracle of miracles, Clara came along.”

  Standing nearby, Clara nodded. “And you don’t need me anymore, Davy. It’s time I moved on.”

  “To where?” Gina liked Clara as a friend and didn’t want her to leave. Over the weeks while caring for Davy, Clara had told Gina how she’d come to the Philippines from Idaho, a young nurse looking for an adventure. She’d fallen in love with a Filipino doctor, married him, and stayed.

  Clara said, “Davy used most of my supplies, and I need an income. A job opened up at the Red Cross in Cabanatuan City. I’m going to apply for it.”

  “But . . . ,” Gina sputtered.

  “Yes. I’m an American. The nurse in our clinic who was killed was Lithuanian, and she had Red Cross credentials. Her name was Clara Jacob. I assumed her identity and adopted her mule.”

  The first thing Gina noticed when she woke the next morning was that Clara’s mule was gone. She found Davy on Edna’s porch, leaning heavily on his canes. “She’s a woman of her word. She’s right . . . I don’t need a nurse, but I’m going to miss her.”

  Gina was too. She envied Clara’s practical skills and her swashbuckling grit. “If there’s anything I can do to help—”

  “There is! I’m going to have Marcus build me a lean-to. You can be my cook.”

  Gina grimaced. Being a cook wasn’t what she had in mind. She’d been mulling over the bigger picture: revenging the atrocities, the needs of the masses, giving of herself as Clara did. However, believing her prowess woefully inadequate, where to start? “You might prefer to eat your words other than my cooking, Davy.”

  Word spread about a doctor in the area, and other wounded and displaced soldiers began arriving to see Theo. Most received treatment and moved on, but some cleared pockets in the jungle, built lean-tos, and stayed. The population of the camp grew.

  Vivian and Maggie worked as nurses for those who needed medical care, while Edna attended the expanded garden and chicken coop. Marcus cajoled local farmers to donate rice, meat, and supplies. Popo became a jack-of-all-trades, the girls helped wherever they were needed, and Gina learned how to cook for a crowd.

  Japanese planes crisscrossed Luzon and dropped thousands of leaflets that fluttered down like giant snowflakes onto those below, stating that all Americans must surrender to the Japanese military within four months or face execution when later captured.

  “Not a good choice here.” Gina held out the leaflet. “We have until September to be imprisoned or executed.”

  Vivian gave the leaflet a glance. “They left out the option to disappear. Theo thinks we’re too visible, and he wants to go higher. Something’s up between him and Davy.”

  The stray soldiers who had now become permanent residents numbered eight. They bummed cigarettes from one another and traded harrowing stories of how they had outwitted their captors. They discussed best methods of retaliation—for the sadistic torture, the starvation, the vicious brutality, and their dead buddies. They damned the Japanese and their smirking faces that they hungered to smash into oblivion—slowly, one at a time—make the buggers watch their
comrades squirm like they’d done to the soldiers.

  Gina and Vivian complained to Theo and Davy about the foulness that had crept into the only place they had to live, but both men agreed the soldiers needed to vent their anger and sorrow and suggested the women keep the kids out of hearing distance.

  “It’s not that easy,” Vivian snapped at Theo. “You know Maggie wants to work with you. She’s obsessed.”

  “Then she’ll have to toughen up,” Theo retorted, and Gina wondered when he had become so callous.

  At the stream, Gina used a bar of lye soap and a fist-size rock to pummel a stain out of Cheryl’s shirt, a technique Edna had shown her. She jumped when a young man suddenly approached in her side vision, big beaked and Ichabod awkward. He wore khaki pants and a soldier’s shirt, and a hand grenade hung from his belt. Another stray soldier—a friend or a foe? She stood, her fingers tightening around the rock.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was high pitched and nasal. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Can you take me to your leader?”

  His request was so ludicrous she laughed out loud, but her fingers remained tight on the rock. “Leader?”

  “Someone in charge of this guerrilla camp. I’d like to help with the resistance. I have some information that will be useful.”

  Guerrilla camp? Resistance? Gina had suspected something was going on. Lately when the men gathered around the campfire, they often spoke in furtive whispers. She hedged. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

  He snapped to attention. “First Lieutenant Robert Louis Stevenson, ma’am. Philippine Military Academy, ROTC. I wish to become involved with the guerrilla army.”

  Wish to become involved? Gina laughed at the strange fellow, who looked young enough to be her son. Davy could decide what to do with him. She gestured. “Follow me.”

  Later she learned that the information Stevenson brought was indeed valuable to those inclined to make mischief. The Japanese were stockpiling ammunition just a day’s walk away, and Stevenson had a map to the site and knowledge of the number of guards and their schedules.

  The next morning, Davy, Marcus, Theo, Stevenson, two other soldiers strong enough to walk, and five of Popo’s Filipino neighbors to whom Davy had assigned military rank gathered at the camp. With them they had a carabao and cart, six rifles, a box of ammunition, a dozen hand grenades, three homemade bombs, five pitchforks, several bolos, and two days’ worth of food and water. Not an army equipped to raid a Japanese ammo depot, Gina knew.

  All day and night, the women waited and watched for the raiders to return.

  “They’ve got the element of surprise,” Gina said.

  “The Filipinos know the lay of the land,” Vivian offered.

  “I don’t think Marcus could shoot another human no matter his skin color,” Edna added.

  The raiders returned the next day with a cartful of Japanese guns, ammunition, TNT, and dynamite and wild stories of triumph. That night, with the men still full of bravado, the talk around the campfire turned from the boastful hypothetical to concrete planning.

  After a series of successful forays harassing the Japanese, Davy singled Gina out. “Walk with me.” He led her to the firepit, where the last embers were glowing. They sat on a low bench, and Davy placed a log on the embers. A mosquito buzzed around her, and she swatted it away.

  “Anopheles.” Davy slapped at another. “The females are the deadly ones. They carry malaria. Are you taking your quinine?”

  “When I can get it. Japs blocked supplies.” She knew Davy had something else on his mind besides mosquitoes and medicines. “What’s up?”

  He lit a cigarette for each of them. “I want to bring you up to date with our plans.”

  “Our plans? I don’t remember being privy to any plans.”

  “Me, Marcus, Theo, Stevenson—”

  “Stevenson? He’s in on your plans and not those of us directly impacted? He’s just a kid.”

  “Maybe so. But it turns out he knows a lot about blowing up bridges. He and a couple of his ROTC friends have been harassing the Japs, and they want to be part of a larger group. The raid on the ammo depot was just the beginning—we have more arms and explosives now and support from the locals. There are Filipino soldiers out there itching for retribution. Popo found a place, farther up and better hidden, where we can set up a compound.”

  Even in the dim light of the embers, Gina saw fervor on Davy’s face, and it scared her. A compound of men crazed with hate was no place for women and children. “Have you told Edna and Vivian about your grand plan? I’m sure they’d be interested.” She hoped he heard her sarcasm.

  “Not yet. We’ll work it out with them.”

  “Then why are you telling me?”

  “We have other plans for you. But then, maybe you’re not interested.” He got up to leave.

  “Maybe I’m not. I don’t know your plans for me, so why don’t you tell me.”

  He sat down. “We’re all stuck on this island, Gina, and there’s no leaving. None of us knows what we’re doing. We’re making up plans and rules as we go. I don’t have to tell you what we’re up against; you’ve seen what the Japs do!” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Just stop giving me flak.”

  Her voice softened. “I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

  “We’re forming a guerrilla unit. For this to work, we need a contact in Manila who can solicit money and send it to us. We think it could be you.”

  “Uh-uh,” she uttered in surprise. It was the last thing she had expected to hear. “Why me? You don’t like my cooking?”

  He grunted. “No. It’s because you can be a pushy broad, and that’s what it’s going to take.”

  That made Gina laugh. She had never thought of herself as a broad of any kind. “So you dump me in Manila and then what?”

  “Marcus has ties to the resistance organizations. They’ll help you change your identity. You could pass for Spanish or Italian.”

  “Italian. My grandparents were from Italy. I speak a little of the language.”

  “There you go. We’ll give you a list of contacts. You’ll explain what we’re doing and ask them for help.”

  “That easy?”

  “No, but that’s the bones. You’ll have to find a place to live. The Nips are in your house.”

  Gina had half expected that news, but it galled her to hear it, and she wondered if the Japanese had cracked open her safe, a gold mine for them. Powerless, she swallowed down this one more torment. “Give me some time. I have Cheryl to think about. She’s my priority.”

  “Don’t take too long. Keep in mind Manila’s under Jap rule, and you’ll be rubbing shoulders with the enemy. With all you’ve seen, do you think you can do it? Be sure of your decision.”

  Gina stayed by the fire after Davy had left and contemplated his request. She could do it. She had the chutzpah and knowledge to support this fledgling band of guerrillas, and soliciting money for a cause was in her blood . . . letters, phone calls, knocking on doors, and telling the story of a mission and a need. However, the thought of living in a Japanese-held city, with loathing inside of her churning like a hurricane, was terrifying. Hiding her emotions wasn’t in her nature. You can be a pushy broad.

  And then there was Cheryl.

  “It’s a harebrained idea,” Vivian said when Gina told her. “Manila? Taking Cheryl? How can you even think of it? You’ll be like Daniel in the lion’s den. If you’re caught, you’ll go to prison, or worse, and then what will happen to your darlin’ child?”

  “But Viv, we can’t survive up here without help, and I know I can get it. And maybe I can find out what happened to Ray.”

  “Then go if you must, but leave Cheryl with Theo and me. She’s like one of our family now anyway.”

  Gina stewed, knowing she could be a valuable asset to this camp but not wanting it to be at the cost of her daughter’s well-being. While in the garden with Edna, she raised her concerns.

  Edna shook dirt off a turnip
and placed it in a pile for that night’s dinner. “Cheryl will adjust either way. But she’s a child, and she has no filter. The danger is she’d say something that would give away your true identity.”

  “But how can I leave her? She’s already missing her father.”

  “We’re as close as any family here. She’ll be loved and looked after. If it doesn’t work out, you can come back.”

  Davy returned from a foray that hadn’t gone well, and he added pressure. “I need your answer,” he growled, but then he disappeared behind the closed door of his hut.

  Before sunrise, awake and still fretting, Gina saw Davy sitting alone by the firepit. She joined him. “Have you been here all night?”

  He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  She knew that to be true. The sortie to cut Japanese communication lines had gone sour, and Davy had lost two men. Loss always took its toll, leaving him brooding and despondent.

  “Our scouts saw Jap patrols headed this way,” he said. “We’ll have to move higher up the mountain. Have you decided what you’re doing?”

  “You know I’m tempted to say yes, but I’m concerned about leaving Cheryl.”

  Davy poked at the fire. “I understand. No parent wants to be separated from their child. But between Vivian, Maggie, and Edna, Cheryl will be loved and nurtured. I’d leave Harry with any one of them in a heartbeat.” He threw the poker down. “In the new camp, there will be an area set aside for families. It will be homier, and there will be a schoolroom. The children will be shielded from the worst of what goes on here.”

  Gina had heard of the new plans, but she still wavered. “How long do you think I’d be gone?”

  “It’s anyone’s guess. If it doesn’t work out for either you or Cheryl, I’ll get you back here. I promise.”

  Gina felt an urge to be more useful than working as a cook for a small band of guerrillas. She trusted Davy and knew Cheryl would be all right with Vivian and Theo, though she expected their parting to be a hard one. “You promise to get me back here if it doesn’t work out,” she reiterated.

 

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