Along the Broken Bay

by Flora J. Solomon

  Gina stepped outside to get the morning newspaper. Christmas music drifted from Irma’s Bakery. The year 1943 was almost behind them, and the war between Japan and the United States still raged, two whole years, so much longer than she had thought the war would last and an eternity to be away from her husband and child. Would they ever make up the missed time together?

  December’s morning air was already hot and sticky, and in her office, Gina turned on an electric fan to get a breeze blowing. She answered the ringing phone. “Good morning. You’ve reached Pearl Blue. How may I help you?”

  It was Ling. He had a friend who worked at Cavite Navy Yard who kept him informed of unusual activity. Ling passed it along to Gina. He said, “The cooks busy last night. They making two new dumplings: har gow, filled with shrimp, scallions, and bamboo shoots, and Chiu Chow, filled with pork and peanuts and flavored with hot mustard. They pack our largest refrigerator full. I add a dozen each to your order?”

  “Please do, and thank you.” She substituted containers for dumplings, guns for bamboo shoots, ammunition for hot mustard, and largest ship’s hold for refrigerator. She deduced the Japanese had loaded containers filled with munitions into their largest ship’s hold. It was time to update Davy. Her hand was on the phone to call for a runner when Clara arrived at her office.

  Gina scooted her chair back and noted the nurse’s baggy eyes and hollow cheeks, but then who didn’t look drawn during these days of endless work, incredible stress, and increasing uncertainty? “When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

  Clara slumped into a chair. “Let me think . . . I don’t remember.” She rubbed the back of her neck, squeezed her shoulders up, and then took a deep breath. “I just want to tell you that Davy’s a gem. He’s cute too. I’d consider marrying him if he wasn’t already married to what’s-her-name.”

  Gina grinned. “Sissy. And there’s a child, Harry. You may want to shop someplace else.”

  “I’m not shopping. I have this need to escape sometimes. Anyway, he’s working with us. He already had his guerrillas on the docks and at the train stations in Manila and Cabanatuan City, so getting their protection for our shipments wasn’t a problem. Dion scrounged up a couple supply trucks, and Davy assigned men to be drivers.”

  Davy could be stubborn, and Gina appreciated hearing the good news. “Thanks. It’s a boost.” She opened the safe and retrieved an envelope of money she had collected from Pearl Blue’s popular Men’s Night. “Split this between Trixie and Dion.” From her desk drawer, she retrieved two repaired eyeglasses that belonged to the prisoners and handed them to Clara.

  Clara untucked her blouse and put the money in a pouch she wore under her clothes. She placed the eyeglasses in her purse and in turn handed Gina a broken denture wrapped in a handkerchief. “Here’s another job for the dentist.”

  Gina inspected the denture before putting it away. “It’s the third one this month. What’s going on?”

  “My guess is given their diet, the guys’ mouths are shrinking, and the dentures are loose. Or a heartless guard has taken to socking them in the face. Could be either.”

  “Yeah. Nice place up there. Have you heard any rumors about the Japs getting suspicious of our activity?”

  Clara straightened to attention. “No. Why?”

  “Trixie said she overheard two Jap guards talking about how skillfully Americans stretched their money. One guard gestured like he was pulling a rubber band. Do you think Dion is being too generous?”

  Clara frowned and shook her head. “No. He’s too shrewd, but I’ll warn him. Trixie probably has already. He’s sly, too, Gina. I’ve watched him work. He moves our merchandise within and between his stalls. He brings in extra family members to work on the days Americans shop, so there are always a lot of people around. His daughters flirt with the guards and bring their babies for a distraction, and his sons work as stock boys or pose as customers. He moves them around like he does the merchandise. Luck was on our side, finding him.”

  “What about the workers. Could one be a sympathizer?”

  “I don’t think so. If there was, the Kempeitai would be all over us. I think the guards were just gossiping. It’s a popular pastime.”

  Where there’s smoke, Gina thought. “Maybe we need to scale back . . . for our workers’ safety.”

  Clara practically jumped out of the chair. “No!” Then she said in a softer but urgent voice, “We can’t scale back. We’re supporting several hundred Americans, but there are thousands more we’re not reaching. Disease is the killer. The men are dying by the dozens from lack of basic medical care, and without sulfa drugs, dysentery is epidemic. And they need soap. They don’t even have enough soap to go around, for Christ’s sake.”

  Gina listened. Clara’s argument to scale up to benefit more prisoners was as valid as her reasons to lie low and decrease risk for the workers. She took a minute to light a cigarette, and then she nudged the pack toward Clara. “There’s a lot at stake here. I’ll pass your concern by Franca and Father Morgan.”

  “You’ll emphasize how important it is?”

  “I will. In the meantime, talk to Dion about ways to get more drugs into the camp. He may have some ideas. I’ll scope out a supplier. Some of the Chinese and Swiss drug houses are still open.”

  Clara added her own suggestion. “The Red Cross has a plentiful supply.” She sat back and folded her arms. “We could hijack their truck.”

  Gina looked hard at her friend and coworker. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  Clara gathered her things to leave. “No. I can get a schedule and a route for you to send to Davy. Just tell me when.”

  Whenever Clara came to Manila, she left Gina with sticky questions to ponder. She went to the bar and poured a whiskey, the balm that sometimes brought a measure of comfort. Perched on a stool, she couldn’t sit still, so she paced between the bar and the window, obsessing about the opposing choices—increasing the workers’ risk or denying the prisoners life-saving drugs. At the piano, Julio played a few scales before teasing Gina with the familiar three-note motif of Beethoven’s “Appassionata.” She stopped her pacing to listen.

  Julio’s nimble fingers charged up the keyboard, where they got hung up on a trill that partnered with the quiver Gina felt in her chest, and then the music plunged to the lowest registers of the old baby grand, where he pounded ominous discordant chords that mirrored her doubt. For the next twenty minutes, Gina fixated on the frenzied jumble of instability and constant expectation, effected through incessantly hammering triplets; eruptions of sharp, nervous counternotes; and unrelenting drive, until her body involuntarily twitched in search of blessed resolution.

  So deep was her engagement that she didn’t hear the man coming up behind her, and when he appeared in her line of vision, she gasped and leaped up in fright.

  “Sorry to frighten you, ma’am. I rang the bell, but nobody answered. My name is Lucas. You have a delivery from Graydon.”

  Since the guerrillas had consolidated, they sometimes used Pearl Blue as a meeting place for representatives of the various factions. They’d arrive disguised as businessmen, deliverymen, metermen, or even beggars, but they all had one thing in common . . . Graydon, a fictitious colonel, friend, or family member. Wearing a suit coat, this man didn’t look like a deliveryman, and Gina’s hackles went up.

  Lucas’s gaze shifted around the room, and he inspected the side rooms. “Anyone here besides the piano player?”

  She stammered, “No.” The minute the word left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t uttered it. She hoped Julio was watching her back as she followed Lucas to the delivery entrance at the rear of the building.

  Lucas scanned the parking lot before opening the door of a beat-up Chevrolet sedan. A man struggled to emerge from the back seat. A fedora covered his hair, and a mustache disguised part of his face. “Davy McGowan,” Gina uttered when recognition hit. She held out her hand. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a long time.”

/>   Chapter 28

  BEGINNING OF THE END

  Sleet blankets my shoulders, and frozen mud forms on my shoes. I walk to the mine shaft, musing how lucky I am to be working underground, where there is no wind.

  —Ray Thorpe, Fukuoka #17, Japan, February 1944–September 1945

  Gina cocked her head to one side to study Davy. His white pants and jacket and blue shirt with large patch pockets were pressed and as stylish as they came these days, but they hung loosely on his too-thin frame. She noticed him assessing her also and speculated about his evaluation . . . tired, worn.

  “It’s good to see you, Davy, but what the hell are you doing in Manila? There’s a bounty on your head.”

  “Business. You. My wife and kid. I’ll fill you in later.” He glanced around. “Nice place. Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?”

  “No, sir. You’re in Jap territory. We’ll go upstairs to my apartment, where it’s safer. Lucas, you can wait at the bar. Have Julio get you a soft drink.”

  Gina led Davy up to her apartment, noticing he still limped, an attribute she’d seen listed on the wanted poster hanging in the post office. Davy chose a straight-backed chair by the window. She poured them both a whiskey. “How did you get here?”

  “Me and my men rode for two days in a boxcar, buried under palm leaves.” Davy gulped his whiskey, and scorn spewed from tight lips. “The Nips fumbled the ball. North of Capas they couldn’t get the boxcar door open. Fucking idiots. We were inside with our guns drawn, just waiting. Think I lost a couple pounds sweating.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “With Mr. and Mrs. Hahn. They have a hidden room in their house.” He crossed his legs and uncrossed them and then settled, sitting on one hip like the other hurt him.

  Gina poured him another whiskey, which he slugged down, so she left the bottle next to him. “Catch me up, Davy. What’s the latest news?”

  “The good news is MacArthur has virtually destroyed the Imperial fleet at Leyte Gulf, and with our superior sea and airpower, Iwo Jima will soon be in our pocket too. I expect MacArthur’s troops to be in the Philippines in three to six months. The bad news is the Japanese are frantic, and the closer our troops get to the Philippines, the more unglued the Nips are becoming. They won’t give up these islands until their last man dies. Pearl Blue has served its purpose. The guerrilla army has government backing now. MacArthur is providing us with consultants, money, weapons, and radios. It’s time you gave up this place and came back with me to the mountains.”

  Gina couldn’t believe what he was saying, and she replied with a grin, “So that’s why you’re here? To rescue me from the big, bad Japanese and take me back to your mountain cave?” When he didn’t show a hint of a smile, she added, “You’re the most hunted man on Luzon; why should I go anywhere with you?”

  “Because I know you need to be reunited with Cheryl, and I’m giving you that chance. I feel the same about Sissy and Harry. The war-prisoners department of the Jap army took over the administration of Santo Tomas. They’ve ousted the Filipino vendors who sold the internees extra food, and they shut down the package line. Sissy and Harry are living on watery rice and not a lot of it.” He hefted himself out of the chair and started pacing. “Holy Mother of God, I’ve got to get them out of there.”

  Gina dropped the grin. She knew the package line had been closed, her donations having been rejected. “I’m sorry, Davy. If anyone can get them out, you can. I suspect you have a plan.”

  “And a backup. My men have been working on the inside for weeks. We’re breaking out two women and three children. We’ll have them out in four minutes from start to finish and then disappear into thin air. We’ve had a lot of practice playing cat and mouse with those bastards.”

  Gina’s foot was tapping of its own accord. “Successful or not, there will be retaliation. Are you willing to let others pay a heavy price for your obsession?”

  “I’ve learned to wall things off.” He returned to his chair. “I want to get Sissy, Vivian, you, and the kids off this island before MacArthur lands his troops. A window has opened up, and it will be a short one. Our supplies are being smuggled in by submarine. Women and children are being smuggled out. I want all of you on one of those subs.”

  How many times had she dreamed of getting herself and Cheryl off this island? She pondered the consequences. She couldn’t go anywhere, not yet. She had responsibilities beyond why Davy had sent her here. Hundreds of prisoners in Cabanatuan would die if the resistance abandoned them. She asked, “What’s the window for the submarines?”

  “Two months. Three, tops.”

  “I need to finish up some things here. I can’t leave just yet. Too many people are counting on me. I’ll get to your camp just as soon as I can. A couple weeks. A month at most. If a sub comes before I arrive, send Cheryl with Vivian, and I’ll follow on the next one. Please promise me you’ll keep them together. I want Cheryl off this island with or without me.”

  She saw Davy’s jaw clench and release. “You’re taking a huge chance.”

  “I’ll be okay. I have friends. We look out for each other.”

  “Friends? You have no friends here. What you have is an underground network, and it’s every man for himself. When it goes down, it will go down fast, and you may not have time to escape. Have you thought of that?”

  Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. Gina jumped up, and Davy reached for the gun under his jacket. He hissed, “Don’t answer it.”

  “Boss.” It was Julio’s voice coming from behind the door, and Gina exhaled a sigh of relief. She opened the door a crack, and Julio whispered, “Admiral Tanaka’s here with Captains Katsura and Hatayama to play mah-jongg. He wants you to be the fourth.”

  “Criminy,” Gina whispered and felt a rush of warmth to her face. “It’s Tuesday. They’re not supposed to be here.” She patted her chest with the palm of her hand. “Get some music on. Something distracting. Tell them I’ll be down in a few minutes. Did they see Lucas?”

  “No. They went straight to the Jasmine Room.”

  “Tell Lucas what’s going on and to stay scarce.”

  She turned to Davy and put her finger to her lips. “Three Japanese naval officers are downstairs, and they want me to be the fourth for mah-jongg. It’s not unusual; I fill in sometimes.” She paced in a circle. “They’ll be here all afternoon. I’ll keep them distracted. You have to leave.”

  “What naval officers? Who are they?”

  “Regular customers of mine: Admiral Akia Tanaka and Captains Katsura and Hatayama.”

  “Holy Mother of God,” Davy whispered as he vaulted out of the chair. “Admiral Akia Tanaka? Here? Downstairs? Gina! Are you kidding me? Do you know who he is?”

  Davy’s tone told a lot, and the hair stood up on Gina’s arms. She rubbed them as if they were cold. “I know a little about him. He likes good music and mah-jongg. He supports Pearl Blue by bringing his friends here. They’re generous with their money, and it’s all gone to you, Davy McGowan, along with information they inadvertently let slip.”

  Davy paced in a circle while running his hand through his hair.

  “What?” Gina said. “What’s so wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s so wrong.” He paced to the window and back. “Tanaka is a vice admiral and a protégé of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto. The two were central in planning the attack on Pearl Harbor.”

  “No,” Gina choked, holding her arms tight against her body. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe you.”

  “You’d better. Tanaka’s ship’s the Musashi, one of the largest battleships in the Japanese navy. It carries the most powerful antiaircraft guns developed, the devil of our airmen. He’s responsible for the fall of Bataan, and his fleet’s attacks almost blew Corregidor off the map. Wasn’t Ray on Corregidor?”

  “You know he was.” She quickly sat down, her mind processing what she’d just heard. “You can’t possibly be right. He told me he was against the atta
ck on Pearl Harbor. I sent that information to you when I heard it. He didn’t think the Japanese had enough resources to win a war against the US.”

  “And those views almost cost him his life. He has many enemies among his own people.”

  Gina could barely speak. “How could you possibly know?”

  “It’s my job to know my enemy. One of our subs torpedoed the Musashi, and it’s been in dry dock at Cavite Navy Yard. My men have been monitoring it. Right now, it’s being loaded with thousands of tons of munitions.”

  Ling had reported the same. She recoiled in a whirl of confusion. “I’ve got to go downstairs.” The menacing look on Davy’s face scared her. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  He seemed to be seeing right through her. “Not stupid at all. I’m going to take down Tanaka, and you’re going to help me.”

  Gina blanched. “You’re crazy, Davy McGowan.”

  “I’m perfectly lucid. I’ve got you, Lucas, and the advantage of surprise.”

  Gina didn’t recognize the man standing not three feet from her, and a zing of a chill went straight up her back. “There’s no way in hell I’ll help you.”

  She felt panic rising and pivoted to look out the window. She had to compose herself, slow down her racing heart. She had to think clearly. She took a deep breath and turned toward Davy. In a voice as strong as she could muster, she laid out her case. “If I’m connected to you in any way, my operation blows apart, my staff will be arrested, and thousands—think of it, Davy—thousands of American prisoners in Cabanatuan will suffer greatly for it.” She hoped the steel of her stand conveyed her message, but the look on Davy’s face was noncommittal. “Admiral Tanaka will not be taken down or hurt in any way while he’s at Pearl Blue. You and Lucas must leave. Julio will tell you when it’s safe.”

  Davy’s face turned black with menace.

  “Did you hear me?” Gina said. Her voice rose from a whisper to a hiss. “There will be no violence at Pearl Blue! You have to leave!”