The Year of Counting Souls

by Wallace, Michael

  “I’m taking three of your patients,” he said. “Sending them off on a mission.”

  “A mission! I like that, spread the word of God to the heathen villages of the mountains. Do we have enough Bibles to go around?”

  “Funny girl. You know what I’m talking about. For the war.”

  “Who are you taking?”

  “Fárez, Zwicker, and . . . that Pinoy who lost part of his ear. What’s his name?”

  “Bautista. What do you mean, ‘taking them’? Not one of those men is in any shape to leave the hospital.”

  “They’re well enough. Even Fárez. I caught him hobbling along without his crutch yesterday.”

  “Against my orders,” Louise said. “He needs a crutch, and if you saw him put it down, it’s only because he’s still got blisters on his hands and armpits from our trek to Cascadas.”

  “If Fárez’s biggest complaint is blisters, then he’s well enough to fight. I have a job here, and that’s to win a war.”

  “I thought our job was to heal the sick and injured.”

  “That’s your job. My job is to fight the Japs. I’m sending those men out with a guide from the village. There’s a small group of partisans to the west of here—bandits, really, but they hate the Japanese more than they like stealing. Only, they have no military experience, and they’re short on ammo. We give them three trained military men and one of our arms caches, and suddenly you’ve got a real headache for the enemy when they enter the mountains.”

  Louise looked in frustration at Claypool, but the doctor was still senseless. Why couldn’t he be awake for this? Surely he’d push back against Kozlowski’s unreasonable request.

  “Can we at least wait until we’re on top of the malaria?”

  “None of those men have it, so that’s irrelevant. If you want to send them with a few pills, go right ahead. Whatever other supplies you can spare.”

  “Lieutenant, please. If we can just wait until Dr. Claypool is better.”

  “No.” His face hardened. “I’m sorry, Louise. Those are my orders, and I expect them to be carried out.”

  The lucky three limped off that afternoon in the company of a village boy of about twelve, who was acting as their guide to find the bandits/partisans. Fárez left Louise in care of Stumpy, and both dog and owner seemed to know that there was a risk of permanent separation. The corporal held Stumpy a little too tightly, and when he passed the dog to Louise, the animal whined and squirmed in her arms, trying to jump down and follow. She kept him tied up for the rest of the day so he wouldn’t run off.

  Kozlowski ordered Frankie released. The lieutenant was still bedridden and ordered the nurse brought to him, where he dressed her down in front of the entire hospital. She listened without comment and nodded sullenly when asked if she’d behave herself. Apart from a poisonous glance at Louise, she seemed subdued and compliant. She obeyed Louise’s orders, but spoke to nobody as she worked, except when necessary.

  Claypool got worse, and it wasn’t just malaria. When Louise did her morning rounds the following day, he pointed wordlessly at his bedpan. There was blood in his stool. If the stool was harder, she’d have thought maybe his anus had fissures from constipation caused by too much rice and banana, but the consistency seemed normal.

  There was no microscope, but she dewormed him as a precaution and sent Maria Elena out to get fruits and vegetables from the village, no matter how much she had to pay, badger, or threaten. Claypool seemed marginally better that afternoon, but by nightfall he was in the grips of another malarial attack.

  The sound of gunfire woke Louise in the night. At first she thought it was her dream or thunder over the mountains confused as the sound of battle. But then the shooting started up again, the distant snap of a rifle. One shot, then two more.

  Clarice was sleeping next to her in the shack that the nurses made their home. The other two women were on duty at the hospital. Now Clarice sat up on her mat. Her breathing came fast and shallow, and she reached out to touch Louise, as if needing confirmation that Louise was with her.

  “Maybe it’s just hunters,” Clarice said.

  “At this hour?”

  “Bandits, then. Or Corporal Fárez teaching the partisans how to shoot.” Clarice’s voice was high and tight, and she sounded desperate. “There could be other explanations, not all of them bad.”

  “Maybe,” Louise said doubtfully. The two women sat in the darkness, listening.

  The gunfire continued. Sporadic fire, followed by moments of silence. Finally chattering bursts of what could only be a machine gun, and now Louise’s stomach clenched. Clarice whimpered.

  This was not target shooting or even a skirmish between rival clans of bandits. This was a small battle, and it was taking place only a mile or two away from the village.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Louise and Clarice threw on clothes and rushed to the hospital. It was already in turmoil, with Kozlowski ordering the patients out of bed, putting rifles into the hands of men who could barely stand, and shouting at Frankie and Maria Elena when they didn’t move quickly enough.

  Louise took this in with alarm. “What are we doing?”

  “The Japs are almost here,” Kozlowski said. “Another hour, tops. A few villagers went down the mountain with rifles, but they won’t hold them for long. We’ve got to get as many people out of here as possible.” He turned to shout. “Nalty, get your butt in motion, I don’t care if you’re dying, I want you ready in five minutes, so help me God.”

  “You’re sure it’s the Japanese?” Louise asked. Kozlowski gave her a withering look. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course you know. But we can’t . . . Lieutenant?”

  He’d turned away again, shouting more orders and shoving a sick man through the doorway.

  “Lieutenant!”

  “I don’t have time for you, Louise. Go help the others. We leave in twenty minutes.”

  “We can’t go, Lieutenant. We’ll never make it.”

  He wheeled on her, grabbed her shoulders, and gave her a little shake, before he seemed to recognize what he was doing and let go. “What would you have me do? For God’s sake, they’re here. Last time we did it, last time we evacuated, last time—”

  “Last time we had a day and a half. This time we have an hour.” She stopped as the sound of gunfire returned. “Where is Dr. Claypool?”

  “I can’t get him up, it’s helpless. Blasted malaria. We’ll have to leave him.”

  “Leave him and you won’t have a field hospital to run.”

  “I’ll have you, won’t I? That will have to do.”

  “I won’t allow it.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “The doctor is down, and that leaves me in charge of the hospital. And I’m telling you I won’t allow it. We left three men in Sanduga and lost another on the road. If we run off in the night, we’ll lose more, and the enemy will catch us anyway.”

  “What would you have me do? Surrender?”

  “No, I want you to leave. Take Mailer and Nalty—they can walk. You’ll have a chance. The rest of us will throw ourselves on the mercy of the Japanese.”

  The lieutenant said nothing for a long moment. It was probably only a few seconds but given the situation seemed to stretch on and on. At last he nodded.

  “We’ll go. You’ll come with us.”

  Louise was prepared for this. “No, I’m staying. These men need me.” She held up her hand when he started to protest. “Please don’t order me. I’ll only disobey.”

  “I need a nurse,” Kozlowski said. “Mailer and Nalty can walk, but they’re still sick and injured.”

  The other three nurses had gathered around and were listening with varying degrees of panic visible on their faces. Clarice, who’d never left Louise’s side, could barely hold herself up, she was shaking so hard; Frankie looked stricken, her hands slack by her sides; and Maria Elena was crying quietly.

  “Take Frankie,” Louise said. “She’s healthy, she—”
>
  “I’m not going! You can’t make me, I won’t do it.”

  “But Frankie,” Louise said, “if you stay, you’ll be taken prisoner with the rest of us.”

  “I don’t care, I won’t go. I can’t take it anymore, I can’t do this. I want it all to be over, I want it over now.”

  “You think being a prisoner will make it over?” Louise asked.

  “I—I’ll go,” Clarice said in a small voice.

  Louise nodded. “Fine. Lieutenant, you have Miss Clarice.”

  “What supplies should I bring?” Clarice asked.

  “Whatever you can carry. Be sensible.” Louise turned to Maria Elena. “Help her get ready.”

  “Am I going, too?” Maria Elena asked.

  “No, I need you here with me. Only Miss Clarice will go.”

  “That’s really helpful,” Kozlowski said sarcastically when the two youngest nurses had rushed off. “Miss Clarice. Wonderful. What would I do without her?”

  Louise ignored him but addressed Frankie instead. “As for you, you can stay, but only if you do what I say. Is that understood?”

  “All right,” Frankie said. Some of her old sullen tone came through, but at least she’d said the right thing. “I’ll do what you tell me.”

  “Good, start by getting the rest of those men back in their beds. Clean up what you can. I don’t want it looking like men went rushing off, I want it to look like we have nothing to hide. Go, hurry.”

  When she’d gone, Louise turned back to Kozlowski. “Take your men and your nurse and go. Leave the rest of this to me.”

  “You’re not in charge here, Louise.”

  “This isn’t a military matter anymore. It’s medical. Nobody else is around to make a decision, so until Dr. Claypool is up, that leaves me. And I’m making the call. I’m authorizing you to take Mailer and Nalty. You took Fárez, Zwicker, and Bautista already. Nobody else is well enough to leave. That’s final.”

  Kozlowski looked at her, not budging. More gunfire. It wouldn’t be long now. Finally his face softened. A decision in his eyes, followed by something that looked like relief.

  “Okay. Good luck, Louise. These men are lucky to have you. Keep them alive if you can.”

  She took a deep breath. Claypool was down, Kozlowski soon to be gone. That left Louise in charge. But it needed to be done—it would save lives.

  “And you, Lieutenant. I expect to see you again someday, alive and well.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. Take care, Louise.”

  He held out his hand. She returned the strong handshake of a farm girl.

  And without another word he turned away. Five minutes later Lieutenant Kozlowski disappeared into the darkness with Mailer, Nalty, and Clarice.

  The villagers did their job and delayed the Japanese for three full hours. Far longer than Louise could have hoped. By then, she had the men back in their beds. She hesitated over Sammy for a long time.

  “Please don’t worry, Louise,” he said, looking up at her from his cot. His face looked even more solemn than usual in the lamplight. “Nobody will think you abused me.”

  She’d already made him look as bedridden as possible, then, when it was clear they had a little more time, changed his bandages and fit his bed with the only set of sheets in the entire hospital. Make him look well cared for.

  Louise glanced around. Scattered groans, coughs, and movement came from the darkness, a few asking for morphine or water but all staying relatively quiet. Waiting. She knelt and touched Sammy’s hand.

  “That’s not my worry.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re still my patient. I’ll protect all of my boys, don’t you worry.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “You’ve done what you can,” he whispered. “I’ll take my chances with the rest of you.”

  Her heart ached to think of what might happen. The Japanese army was notoriously cruel to any who stood in their way, whether they were defending their homeland or not. Would they see Sammy as a coward for surrendering to the Americans? Would they learn of the letter he’d sent to his brother?

  “Louise,” Maria Elena said in a small voice. “What about the nurses?”

  “What will they do with us?” Frankie asked. “Louise, I’m scared.”

  Louise rose to her feet. “Stay in the back, the both of you. At least until we know the enemy’s intentions.”

  She also felt the cold dread that every woman in a combat zone faced sooner or later, that they’d fall into the hands of brutal soldiers intent on rape and other abuse. But somebody had to greet the Japanese and offer the surrender, so Louise gathered her composure and went outside to wait in the darkness.

  The minutes crawled by. No gunfire now, only the croaking, squeaking, chirping countryside, the rush of the nearby brook, and the buzz of mosquitoes in her ears as they continued their relentless search for blood. Finally, at dawn, the enemy reached Cascadas.

  The first to arrive were Sakdals, who swaggered into the village at first light. They were about fifteen in number, and Louise’s first thought was that Kozlowski had made a huge mistake, that it hadn’t been Japanese at all. Only a well-armed group of bandits who were taking advantage of the collapse of law and order in the wake of the invasion. In that case, it was a mistake for the lieutenant to have fled. A well-organized defense would have driven them off in search of easier prey.

  Some of the swagger diminished as the men approached, and they looked about warily, as if watching for threats or perhaps simply places to loot and people to terrorize. One of the men spotted Louise where she stood in front of the hospital door. She froze in place as two of them approached, grinning. Her instincts cried for her to flee inside. There were soldiers in the hospital, and sick or not, they’d rise to defend her.

  No. You are their last line of defense.

  “This is a hospital,” she said firmly, pointing to her armband with its red cross. “I am a nurse. This is a hospital. Do you understand?”

  They didn’t. That was clear from their expressions.

  Wasn’t the word for hospital the same in Spanish, which a lot of Filipinos still spoke? Maybe even Tagalog, too. She repeated the word with her best attempt at a Spanish accent.

  The men turned to each other and grinned. One reached for the military badge on her collar and ripped it off. The gesture jerked Louise forward, and she cried out, startled. The men laughed at her discomfort. She regained her balance and shrank back against the hospital door.

  “We surrender, but you must respect that this is a hospital. The men inside are injured, do you understand? They must not be harmed. They have rights as prisoners. This is a hospital!”

  More laughter. For God’s sake, why hadn’t Louise kept Maria Elena with her instead of tucking her into bed? The Filipino nurse could have translated, could have insisted that the Sakdals obey the rules of war.

  As if that would do any good. Thugs, that’s all these men were. They wouldn’t respect the men inside or any attempt to surrender. And one could only guess what they’d do with the women, starting with poor Maria Elena herself. Being a Filipina wouldn’t help her; it would only make it worse.

  And then a uniformed man pushed through the Filipinos, and such was Louise’s fear that her first glimpse of the hated Japanese who’d pursued them into the mountains brought a flood of relief.

  He was taller than she expected, thin and with sharp facial features. His eyes were hard and piercing, and he studied her like a hawk on a branch would look down on a rabbit sitting frozen with terror below. The man looked young, only in his early twenties, although she wasn’t entirely confident in that assessment. But he carried himself like a captain or a major, with an arrogant confidence. He wore a sword on one side, a pistol in a holster on the other.

  A second Japanese man came up, this one shorter. He had a pistol, but no sword, and wore a white armband with red Japanese letters. If not for the uniform, his round face and eyeglasses would have made him look like a
schoolteacher. He asked a question of the first man, who responded in short, clipped tones. The second man gave a short bow and said something else. Both men sounded harsh and angry to her ears.

  Meanwhile, the two Sakdals were leering at Louise. One reached out a dirty finger and stroked it along the side of her face, and she shuddered. His other hand went to her waist, and his companion laughed.

  “Please,” she said to the Japanese, unsure if they could understand. They would certainly understand her tone. “I am a nurse, and this is a hospital. Don’t let these men inside.”

  Miraculously, her voice didn’t shake, though she was weak with fear. She swore it wouldn’t show on her face. She must appear confident.

  The last defense. There is nobody else.

  The Japanese man with glasses said something in Tagalog, and the two Filipinos pulled back, grumbling. But they seemed afraid of him and wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  The Japanese with the sword stepped forward. Between his sword and the way the other man deferred to him, she guessed he was in charge.

  “Where is your commanding officer?” he asked. “Why isn’t he here to speak to me? Is he a coward?”

  Louise stared. He spoke in English, the accent so good that if she’d closed her eyes, she’d have thought him an American. There was a halting nature to it, though, like a car engine starting up after sitting unused in a garage.

  “Answer me at once!”

  She stammered getting the words out. “I . . . I’m sorry, I was surprised to hear English. We have no officer. He died of his injuries. There are only sick and wounded men inside. Prisoners of yours now, and you have responsibilities not to mistreat them.”

  After her initial shock, she knew whom she was looking at. Yoshiko Mori. Sammy’s brother. She couldn’t see a resemblance in his face, except for the general way that all of these Japanese looked alike to her untrained eye. But it must be him. Who else would speak English so perfectly?

  “Who is in charge, then?” he asked.

  “I am, sir.”

  He laughed, and anything American in his features disappeared into an expression that seemed utterly foreign and barbaric.