“The Japanese had no idea who they were attacking,” Bremer argued back, showing no respect for rank whatsoever in his sneering, superior tone. “Kormoran was a huge ship in an enemy-held anchorage: to them it was no more than a legitimate target!”
“You forget your place, Herr Bremer…!” Oetzel snapped sharply, not ready to permit such a wanton display of insubordination against their captain. “It is your captain you’re addressing, and I’ll remind you to show respect when you do. Have you also forgotten that our own U-boat tried to sink us and then fired on us with its flak guns, killing dozens of your own compatriots…? They knew exactly who they were firing on. The morning we ran aground, almost every schlachtflugzeuge present targeted our ship alone… do you really think the Japanese didn’t know who we are also? Use that quivering grey lump between your ears for just a moment and think about that, you fool! That bastard, Fuchs, set us up to take a fall and managed to get these ‘allies’ of ours and our own bloody men out looking to sink us because of that bloody bomb we’ve carried all the way from Kiel. How long do you think we’ll last as their ‘guests’ once they have us?”
“These Australians… this Schottisch officer…” Detmers continued, less agitated than his XO as the young Bremer fumed silently at both of them from the other side of the group, murder in his eyes. “They are our enemies, as you say, and we fought them honourably and were defeated.” He sighed softly, the act loaded with resignation. “Yet since being taken prisoner, they have treated us with honour and complete honesty at every turn… more, I would point out, than can be said for the fellow sailors of our own Fatherland! You are young, Bremer, and it is not your fault that you have no experience in this,” he continued, attempting to calm the man’s obvious rage. “I know something of the Japanese, and I know a little of their treatment of prisoners from what I have read and what I have seen on one or two brief visits to China and Manchuria before the war. Having this experience, I can say with some confidence that I do not believe our treatment at their hands would be the Sunday picnic that I suspect you imagine it to be. I have only my feelings regarding this, but I tell you I trust this Captain Donelson far more than I would trust any Japanese right now, and my instincts tell me we are far safer with her than against.”
“You are talking of treason,” Bremer hissed angrily, spitting the words into the space between them.
“If we make it back to Deutschland, then you may freely denounce me for it, should you still feel the same…” Detmers replied with a shrug, recognising he was getting nowhere with the man and deciding he cared little. “Until that time, I remain your captain and as such, you will follow my orders… is that clear…? Is that clear, Bremer…?” He barked angrily, when a quick response wasn’t forthcoming.
“Jawohl, Mien Herr…!” Seaman Bremer fired back with wooden stiffness, refusing to look at Detmers as he stared off into the middle distance, hatred and humiliation in his eyes.
“Was there any time you two were going to mention anything about this bloody ‘Laha Massacre’?” Eileen asked sourly as she stepped from the small, native hut that the 2/21st had commandeered as the CP for its operations in and around the airfield.
“We figured if you already knew, there was no point bringing it up,” Lloyd explained as he and Langdale fell into step with her, heading off along the dirt track leading back to the airfield. “And if you didn’t know about it, it probably wasn’t going to help bringing it up anyway…” He shrugged. “Either way, it seemed to me that it just be best we make bloody sure we don’t get caught: even without the massacre, the bloody Japs were never known for their human rights record…”
“Fair point,” she conceded, nodding.
“What did ‘His Nibs’ have to say for himself…?”
“Nearly got himself sunk with Repulse, off Kota Bharu,” she replied with a worried shake of her head, “but he managed to scrape through with no more than a concussion. Good news is, they’re holding the Japs on the Malay Peninsula at the moment, which at least keeps the bastards from making a move on Java or anything west of Borneo for fear of retaliation from forces staging out of Singapore. He’s back in Australia now,” she added after a moment’s pause. “They’re organising some flying boats out of Darwin to come and get us, but they earliest they can get anything out here is tomorrow night. We need to be at a village called Larike by twenty-three hundred hours tomorrow for a beach pick up…”
“How many they taking…?”
“Well, he said they were going to wrangle up a couple of Sunderlands, so as many buggers as we can,” she shrugged. “Would’ve been happier with the bloody Galaxy, but I don’t like the chances of getting that big bastard off the ground again…”
That bloody airstrip looked about half the length of Kibrit,” Langdale observed sourly, shaking his head in agreement. “Bloody thing would end up in the bay trying to take off here.”
“If the Japs hadn’t blown it out of the sky before then anyway,” Lloyd pointed out, joining in on the general level of negativity.
“I want to take as many of the wounded with us as we can,” Eileen mused thoughtfully as they continued on. “Might be a good idea to bring the German prisoners with us as well: no doubt Intelligence will want to have a word with those buggers… I’ve spoken to Major Newbury already and he’s going to see what vehicles they can spare.”
“I’ve got the patch kit in my pack,” Langdale offered, thinking ahead. “You want me to wire it up to the radio so you can link up with Max directly?”
“No point,” Donelson answered with a shake of her head. “We’re not going to be here long enough to make it worthwhile – hopefully – and Newbury’s going to send a radio truck down to the rendezvous point in any case to keep an eye out.”
“All we need now is for the Japs to come to the party and hold off long enough for it to all come together,” Lloyd suggested, not sounding any more optimistic than he felt.
“They’ve not heard from Roach over on the other side yet,” Eileen grimaced, shaking her head, “but it appears the Dutch have already surrendered at Halong. I’d like to hope the Japs will have a little rest over there and leave us to it, but I don’t really think that’s likely. We need to plan for the worst, anyway,” she added as both men gave sombre nods of agreement. “I’d prefer to have everything ready to go, just in case…”
“Shōsa-sama…!” That call came from an NCO, breathless and excited as he jogged quickly up to where Hasegawa stood in the lee of the beached freighter, watching as a Bedford truck carried away the German officers and their escort. “Some news from the front, Shōsa-sama…!”
“What is it, corporal?” He asked tiredly, not expecting anything particularly interesting.
“An Australian officer, sir…!” The man explained quickly, giving a sharp bow of respect. “An Australian officer, taken prisoner at the Amahusa lines…”
“And this is a surprise that warrant’s my attention…?” Hasegawa asked archly, tired and more than happy to vent his frustration on a defenceless NCO for wasting his time.
“This one was not captured, sir,” the corporal went on to explain with similar speed and desperation, recognising the danger he was currently in by the tone in the officer’s voice. “This one approached our lines alone, asking to speak with someone in charge…”
“Alone, you say…?” Hasegawa demanded, his interest piqued now and all thoughts of punishment forgotten. “An officer…?”
“A lieutenant, I believe, sir,” the NCO explained, giving another nervous bow of acknowledgement. “He was asking about the cease fire and our surrender terms: my unit commander thought you would want to speak to this man directly.”
“Very good, corporal… I do, indeed. Where is this man now?”
“They have sent a car to collect him, sir; he can only be a few minutes away…”
“Have him brought to me immediately, corporal,” Hasegawa advised with a frown, consulting his wristwatch. “I suspect the general will want to see this man a
lso…”
Twilight had already well and truly arrived, with the disappearance of the last of the sun’s rays below the mountains across the bay by the time Hasegawa arrived back at the Japanese CP at Halong, sometime later that evening. Also conveyed by a captured enemy vehicle – in this case a Dutch jeep – he was accompanied by two guards toting submachine guns and a rather nervous and bewildered Bill Jinkins.
A large army tent had been set up not far from the school room in which Kapitz had been interrogated earlier, and this had been established as the main command post. A generator chugged softly from some distance away, and several post-mounted floodlights illuminated the surrounding area about the tent. Against one outer wall, just outside the tide-back entrance flaps, a small table carried several radios and a selection of crumpled maps, all held in place by a large rock.
As Jinkins was taken from the vehicle and escorted toward the tent, he could already see several officers standing inside, most of which were dressed in the standard uniform of the Japanese Imperial Army. As he drew nearer however, he was surprised to note that there were three more men inside who were instead dressed in quite different garb of a tan and khaki camouflage pattern tunics over plain, tan shorts. It was only as he was finally able to see their faces and the Afrika Korps-style kepis they wore that he finally realised he was staring at German officers.
“Rikugun-Shōshō-sama…” Hasegawa began stiffly, presenting himself with a bow to one of the officers wearing a single star set in yellow collar tabs carrying two thin, red bands. “I give humble apologies for my delay. I have with me an Australian officer who has approached our lines near Amahusa, demanding to see proof of the Dutch surrender and a list of our terms.”
“He demands, does he…?” Major General Itō Takeo responded with mild surprise, more amused than actually offended by such effrontery from a prisoner. “Have you questioned him?”
“Not yet, sir; I thought it best to bring him to you directly…”
“Very good, major…” Itō nodded slowly, casting an imperious eye across their captive as he took a few steps outside the tent, the Germans and other Japanese officers looking on with interest. “You there… prisoner…!” He snapped sharply in middling English. “Who are you? What unit are you?”
“William Thomas Jinkins, Second AIF,” he responded woodenly, coming to attention and staring directly past the general’s left shoulder as he then recited his army number.
“Captain…” Itō directed, turning to one of the junior officers present inside the tent. “See to it…”
“You come to spy on us, yes…?” The man snarled in slow, stilted English, electing to be enraged on his commander’s behalf over the level of insolence clearly showing in the Australian’s expression and tone as he stormed from the tent and advanced on the prisoner. “You think we believe you surrender… no reason…?”
“William Thomas Jinkins, Second AIF…” Jinkins repeated, experienced enough with superior officers to know exactly how to annoy one without actually doing anything worthy of a charge.
“We ask, you answer…!” The officer insisted, frustration in his own words now as he drew the sword at his belt and pointed it at the prisoner. A family heirloom at least a century old, its edge nevertheless looked razor sharp to Jinkins’ nervous eye.
“Who is Roach?” He demanded sharply, repeating questions as Itō fed them to him in Japanese.
“I don’t know…” Jinkins replied carefully, having first counted to ten in his own mind.
“How many men are you…?” Another question asked by proxy.
“I don’t know…” the lieutenant repeated, again counting first to delay his response.
“What does Kapitz do here…?”
“I don’t know…”
“Impudent filth…!” Itō barked in frustrated Japanese, picking up the intent behind the Australian’s delaying tactics and firing his next question at his interrogator.
“Why you take so long to answer…?” The captain demanded angrily, feeling some of his superior’s wrath now and seeming decidedly more nervous. It was therefore unfortunate that despite having a reasonable command of the language, his ability to use it fluently was deteriorating rapidly as his anger and frustration increased.
“Because, Tōjō,” Jinkins began, pausing as if deciding whether or not he had the courage to finish his sentence, “you don’t speak good English…”
There was a momentary silence, many of the Japanese present missing the insult due to a poor or non-existent grasp of the language, although all three German officers were taken aback, to a man expecting the officer to run the prisoner through on the spot. Watching like a hawk as he had been, it also didn’t go unnoticed with Ritter that Hasegawa also flinched at the answer, his eyes flickering with surprise just for a split second before he brought himself back under control once more.
The junior intelligence officer seemed almost dumbfounded however, confusion flickering across his features for a few seconds as his mind processed what the man had actually said. His expression quickly changed to one of offence however, although still he did not react other than to stare directly at the prisoner, his face reddening markedly with over the insult he’d just been handed. To his credit, Jinkins was smart enough in that moment to very carefully say nothing, instead remaining stock still and maintaining his wooden, emotionless expression. It was almost certainly that lack of reaction or obvious acknowledgement of his own given insult that saved the man from indeed feeling the point of the officer’s sword.
In the end, the captain found himself devoid of any clear target for the perceived offence, his certainty that it had been intentional shaken by the resolute manner in which the Australian lieutenant standing before him remained completely silent and expressionless, giving no reaction that might indicate there had been any intent behind his words. The energy behind his momentary rage began to dissipate in that moment however and he instead simply sighed with resignation and sheathed his sword, turning back to his own commander with an expression of confusion and dismay.
“General…” Ritter ventured carefully, approaching Itō after quick consultation with his own commanding officer. “I am fluent in a number of languages, including English. May I speak to this man on your behalf? If he is intentionally avoiding these questions, he will find it difficult to do so with me…”
Itō turned and stared long and hard him, as if trying to decide if Ritter were now intending some slight or insult regarding the capabilities of the men under him.
“Do as you will, colonel…” The general answered eventually, shaking his head in frustration. “Find out what this prisoner has to say for himself while we decide if other means of investigation are required…”
“You are a lieutenant, yes…?” Ritter asked quickly, lowering his tone a little as he approached a suddenly very surprised Bill Jinkins. “This, I can see from your dress and your rank – the question is rhetoric…” he added before the man could respond. “You are a lieutenant with the Australian infantry…”
“William Thomas Jinkins…”
“You would do well to find something else to say other than your name… or ‘I don’t know’, you mad bastard…” Ritter hissed sharply, lowering his voice again until it was little better than a whisper. Relaxing his own, usual standards of speech, he allowed himself to slip momentarily into a more coarse, conversational pattern of English he’d picked up while a prisoner of Thorne’s Hindsight team at Scapa Flow anchorage, two years before. “You think these butchers give a shit about some upstart lieutenant just because he has the balls to walk straight into their camp, bold as brass…?”
It was not so much what the German officer said but rather the relaxed, very colloquial nature of the words used that struck Jinkins as being significant. The man not only spoke English well, but also appeared to have some experience with Australian or British vernacular that was quite unexpected.
“We heard the Dutch had surrendered,” he answered final
ly, recognising that playing dumb was clearly not going to work any longer. “My men and I were cut off from the rest of our boys and we had no other intel, so I decided to come down and ask these bastards what was going on meself… Two of my blokes brought another officer down from the mountain earlier on a stretcher too, looking for a medic…” he added grudgingly, thinking more now about the men he served with. “I was hoping I might see if he was all right as well, while I was here.”
“Better…” Ritter acknowledged with a faint smile and nod. “Thank you. General…” he continued in Japanese, turning to address the Japanese commander with a short, stiff bow. “This junior officer is part of a group separated from their main force and uninformed as to the true situation here on Ambon. There have been rumours of the Dutch surrender, but no word of it from their own command: he therefore comes to you seeking confirmation. Now that he knows the capitulation has occurred, he wishes to take our surrender terms back to his commanding officer…” he added, thinking quickly.
“Hah…! So this is the purpose, as Hasegawa alluded,” Itō nodded sagely, as if hearing the same thing twice somehow confirmed it beyond all possible doubt. “Indeed, this may suit our needs also: we have been unable to contact the Australian commander via radio, and this officer may be of assistance doing exactly what he requests. Have him brought before this Kapitz: the man can take from him a signed letter along with our terms, as proof that we have the Dutch command in custody.”
“This officer has one other simple request,” Ritter added, feeling lucky at this point and unable to help himself. “He has a wounded colleague – a fellow officer – who was brought down from the mountain on a stretcher by two of his men. He is requesting any news of this man’s condition… if you have indeed taken him prisoner…”
“I have heard of this man!” Hasegawa interrupted, stepping forward with a bow to Ritter. “Two men… they bring your friend, yes?” He asked Jinkins directly in obviously poor English. “Another officer… leg hurt…”
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 75