To Parts Unknown

by John Anthony Miller

  They left the reeds and disappeared. We waited, terrified the soldiers would creep up behind us. We listened closely, but heard only the rustling of the reeds in the breeze. Thomas returned a few minutes later. He had a Japanese rifle.

  "How did you get that?" I asked.

  “Come on,” he said. “We have to hurry.”

  He led us forward. When we cleared the field, I was surprised to find we were on the dirt road again. Van der Meer was waiting for us. An occasional tear rolled down his cheeks. I stared at him oddly as he wiped them away. Then I remembered the story that Thomas told me about the Great War. Van der Meer had survived a gas attack, but his eyes were so sensitive a strong wind made him cry.

  I looked at him for a moment, our unofficial leader. He was calm and composed, confident and cocky. He had earned a medal for bravery when he was seventeen years old, and he could do it again if he had to. Even though Thomas now led our escape through the reeds, Van der Meer provided his silent approval for every move that we made.

  "We've gone in a big circle," Lady Jane said. "Exactly," Thomas acknowledged.

  "So our efforts have all been in vain," Sir Gregory said.

  "Not really," Thomas replied.

  We negotiated a curve and saw the truck parked in the center of the road. An enemy soldier lay on the ground beside it.

  “What are we going to do?” Sir Gregory asked.

  "I thought we’d be more comfortable driving," Thomas explained. He looked in the cab. "Oh, how nice. They were kind enough to leave the key in the ignition."

  Thomas handed Van der Meer the rifle and he climbed in the rear of the truck with Sir Gregory and Lady Jane. We threw our baggage in after them. Thomas got in the driver's seat. I climbed in beside him.

  "Watch for the other soldiers," he said.

  He started the truck and drove away. We barreled down the road as the men who had been fanned across the field raced towards us. But we were too far away. They never even ventured a shot.

  "Where are we going?" I asked. “Are we still circling Djokjakarta?”

  "I’m not sure where the road leads, but we should use the truck since we have it. It may be a better option. But we need to find food first. We should try to stay in the rural areas and reach the east coast. Then we can find Bennie and get out of here."

  We traveled for an hour more. Our progress was slow. The roads were rough and rutted; our journey would be a long one. Although we were in a rural area, the mountainous terrain was heavily populated. Thatched huts lined the roadway and the areas adjacent to it, which were surrounded by rice paddies terraced into the hillsides. The fields swarmed with workers, but our presence earned only a glance from the local populace. It made me think that Japanese trucks were already a common sight.

  We soon reached a small hamlet, nothing more than a series of houses and huts nestled near the road, and Thomas brought the truck to a halt in front of a general store. Although several villagers milled about and wandered down the road, none seemed interested in us.

  "I think it best that I don't go in," he said, referring to his bloody shirt. "Can you pick me up a few things?"

  "Of course," I replied. "What do you need?"

  "A few shirts, some cigars, and gin, if they have it.

  Get all the food you can carry and something to put it in. Try and purchase a three-day supply just to be safe."

  “I’ll get some medical supplies too,” I said, eyeing his injured shoulder.

  He handed me some money. "Get some personal items too. Soap, combs - you know, stuff like that."

  I nodded and joined Sir Gregory, Lady Jane, and Van der Meer who were already in the store. We made our way through the aisles, enduring an occasional stare from local patrons. The shelves were sparsely stocked but did contain an assortment of local foods, some clothing, and personal items. We made our selections quickly; it was dangerous for us to linger. When we left the store we found Thomas hanging out of the truck window, engaged in a conversation with two men.

  "I've found a place where we can rest," he told me when I returned.

  Just as we all got into the cab, a small truck screeched to a halt in front of the store. One of the soldiers got out and hammered a poster on the wall beside the entrance.

  “Get down!” Thomas hissed.

  We crouched low in the front seat. If the soldiers searched the store and found no comrades, they might come to the truck. We were trapped.

  I could imagine Van der Meer in the back, his rifle drawn. He intended to go down fighting. Lady Jane had her pistol ready, but I didn’t know if she had the nerve to use it again. Sir Gregory was still a mystery. Although he had been tortured by the enemy, and he probably hated them, I couldn’t predict his reaction. Would he fight or surrender?

  We could hear the soldiers talking. They were questioning some of the locals. I held my breath, hoping they didn’t talk to anyone who had seen us. The discussion lasted a few minutes, and then it was quiet. We cringed, not knowing if they were coming towards us.

  A minute passed, tense and quiet. We heard the vehicle start, the engine cranking over and rumbling to life, and then it drove away. They had ignored our truck, never questioning why it was there, never searching for the troops who had come with it.

  “See what the poster is,” Thomas said.

  I walked over to the entrance and saw the flyer the men had attached to the wall. It was a picture of Lady Jane with some description underneath it. Two smaller portraits were below it at the bottom of the page. One was of Thomas; the other was me. I removed it from the wall and hurried back to the truck.

  I handed it to Thomas. He scanned it briefly and then laid it on the seat. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “They have our fake passports so they know what we look like. We have to get out of here. They probably posted flyers all over Java.”

  He drove away. After another mile, he turned off the road and went across a grassy field, before guiding the truck into a grove of trees. When he was sure the vehicle was well-hidden and couldn’t be seen from the road, he stopped and we got out.

  Thomas led us through the underbrush, comparing the area to the description he’d gotten from the men at the store. We soon reached a small pond rimmed by thick green vegetation and circled by large flat stones. The water, which was about six feet deep, was so clean that the gray sand at the bottom was visible.

  We lounged on the rocks while we gorged on a meal of rice, cheese and pineapple juice. We ate ravenously. When our appetites were sated, we prepared to wash.

  Lady Jane was the first to bathe, so we waited by the truck to ensure her privacy. When she called for our return, we found her clothes draped over a limb to dry. Her hair was flat and wet, and she was dressed in a batrik, a colorful local garment purchased at the store.

  We bathed in the pond while Lady Jane wandered into the adjacent shrubbery. The water was soothing, and it was the most peaceful moment we had in some time. I savored it as I would any other long-absent pleasure. It made me think of London and a hot bath in my apartment after braving a damp winter day. As soon as I thought of home, the hurt returned, like a knife in my heart, and memories of Maggie washed over me, one after the other like the scenes of a motion picture.

  After we finished, Van der Meer attended to Thomas’s wound. He cleansed the damaged flesh, dabbed on an ointment he had obtained at the store, and then bandaged it. “I think your recovery will be rapid.”

  We were about to call for Lady Jane's return when she came running through the trees, pointing to the road, her face frantic and flushed.

  "The Japanese are coming!"

  CHAPTER 36

  We ran from the pond across the flat rocks and through the trees to our vehicle. It was tucked a few hundred feet from the road in a natural cove of dense shrubs and overhanging limbs. Lady Jane stood beside it, pointing to a troop truck that had stopped on the side of the road.

  “Are they here for us?” she asked.

  “It looks like it,” Va
n der Meer said.

  Troops started climbing from the back of the truck.

  I counted a total of ten, including the driver and an officer who had been in the cab. The soldiers stood on the side of the road and were soon joined by two civilians.

  “Thomas, look,” I said. “It’s the men we saw at the store.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Sir Gregory warned. “If they catch us they’ll kill us.”

  “We can use the truck,” Van der Meer said. “We’ll wait until they’re almost here, and then we’ll drive away. They’ll have to run back to their vehicle before they can come after us. Sir Gregory, Thomas, quick. Go get our belongings.”

  The two disappeared while we watched the enemy approach. I was tired of running, and I knew the others were too, but if we stayed it meant certain capture and death. Especially for Lady Jane.

  The troops moved slowly, cautiously crossing the field that lay between us, searching the occasional islands of shrubs and trees, and even taking a moment to study a rice paddy that lay on the distant edge of the road. It was if they knew we were nearby, and they knew we were dangerous.

  No soldiers remained at the truck. That was good; Van der Meer’s plan might work. For a moment I studied the contrast offered by the rural landscape. A man was leading two goats down the road, briefly looking at the men and then minding the animals. He was followed by a cart of bananas pulled by a slouched donkey and driven by an elderly man with a broad hat. The civilians studied the invaders, no doubt wondering what they were doing in such a remote part of the island.

  Lady Jane had her pistol clenched firmly in her right hand, her knuckles white. Her face was pale, her eyes focused on the short barrel of the gun. She was trembling.

  She noticed me watching her. After making sure Van der Meer was preoccupied with the enemy, she furtively handed me the pistol.

  “I can’t kill anyone else,” she whispered.

  I grabbed the pistol. Then I tenderly took her hand in mine and squeezed it.

  “Get in the back of the truck,” Van der Meer said. “Be quiet though. Climb over the tailgate.”

  We did as he said, waiting for Thomas and Sir Gregory. They returned a moment later, handing us our bags and the extra sacks containing the provisions we had purchased at the store. Sir Gregory had the rifle we had taken from the soldier. The soldiers were closer, barely a hundred feet away.

  “Thomas, you drive,” Van der Meer said. “Go with him, Sir Gregory.”

  “Look!” I hissed.

  I pointed to a grove of trees on our left. Two soldiers were emerging from the thickets, barely fifty feet away. They hadn’t seen us; their attention was focused on their approaching comrades. I suspected they were scouting for the others, exploring our flank. They had probably gotten out of the truck before Lady Jane saw them. They were close enough to stop us, maybe without firing a shot. Just level their rifles and demand our surrender.

  Thomas and Sir Gregory moved quietly towards the cab. Van der Meer gingerly climbed in the back with Lady Jane and me, stepping over the tailgate so he made no noise.

  I heard the doors open and close almost in unison, and then the engine started. The soldiers closest to us turned towards the noise and shouted for us to stop. Thomas threw the truck in gear. The wheels momentarily spun in the soft soil before finally catching; the rear end of the vehicle swerved. As we sped away, I looked out the back of the truck and saw the soldiers pointing their rifles, preparing to shoot.

  “Get down!” I said.

  I pushed Lady Jane to the floor. Using my body as a shelter, I wrapped myself around her, trying to protect her.

  “George, I’m frightened,” she whispered.

  “Just stay down,” I said. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

  The Japanese started firing as the truck bounced over the rugged terrain. I heard the shots. Bullets punctured the canvas that wrapped the back of the truck and pinged off the sideboard and tailgate, almost hitting the tire. One bullet whistled past me. Then I heard a thud like a snowball hitting a wall.

  We bounced about the back of the truck as Thomas turned continually, battling bumps and ruts, running over shrubs and bushes, until he got back to the road. He sped as fast as the truck could travel, turning onto a side road to elude the enemy. I lifted my head and peeked over the tailgate. Our plan had worked. By the time they’d recovered and come after us, we had already disappeared on the twisting roads that curved along the mountainside.

  Van der Meer was sitting up, his face pale, leaning against the side of the truck. He was wheezing, struggling to breathe. He stared vacantly forward; his shirt was stained with red.

  “Van der Meer’s been shot!” I shouted.

  I moved to his side, a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. He was our leader and a friend. He had saved our lives on more than one occasion. I was determined not to let him lose his.

  I tore his shirt open. The bullet had entered the left side of his left chest near the heart. Blood oozed from the wound, dripping down his torso.

  “Lady Jane, get the medical supplies out of our bags.”

  She handed me some gauze and a cleansing agent. I cleaned the wound, rubbing the lotion on it. There was a gurgling sound coming from deep in his throat. I wondered if he was choking on his own blood. His eyes started to roll back in his head as if he were losing consciousness, but then his head snapped forward; he refused to succumb. I pressed the gauze against the bullet hole, trying to stem the flow of blood, and held it firmly.

  “Hang on,” I said. “You’ll be all right.”

  He looked at me, his eyes barely open, but he nodded his head. He seemed to recognize my efforts and appreciate them.

  “It doesn’t look bad,” I said, although I knew differently.

  He coughed and sputtered and then arched his eyebrows. “I think you’re wrong,” he said. He winced, fighting the pain.

  “George, we have to do something,” Lady Jane said anxiously.

  She was right. We had to find a doctor or a hospital. The wound was far more serious than our minor medical skills could cope with. We had to save his life. It was worth whatever risk we had to take to do it.

  I thought of his contribution in the Great War, his bravery, his courage, all demonstrated as a boy, seventeen years old. It didn’t seem fair that someone that heroic should die in the back of an enemy truck in the remote mountains of Java.

  I pressed the gauze against his chest and examined his back, searching for an exit wound. There was none; the bullet was lodged inside him. There were no other wounds. I eased him from a sitting position down to the floor, holding the gauze tightly against the bullet hole. Then I put one of our bags under his head to elevate it. He seemed to breathe easier.

  “Is he bad?” Lady Jane asked.

  I looked to see if he was watching. His eyes were closed. I nodded my head.

  A tear rolled slowly down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Then she got more bandages from the bag.

  “Here,” she said. “Wrap this around him.”

  Between us, we managed to pack the wound with gauze and wrap a bandage around his chest. I rolled up some clothes in a ball and made a pillow, replacing the bag. His face was ashen, his breathing labored, but for the moment, it was all we could do.

  I peeked out the back of the truck. We were traveling down a dirt road that increased in elevation, approaching the next mountain. Small shacks abutted the road; farm fields sprawled behind them. Men worked the fields, women tended children and an assortment of animals: goats, dogs, oxen, and a few scattered donkeys dotted the landscape. We were moving rapidly. There was no one behind us.

  “We should tell them to stop,” I said. “They need to know about Van de Meer.”

  I took the water bottle and wet some gauze. I placed it on Van der Meer’s forehead.

  Lady Jane banged on the window, holding the curtain back for Sir Gregory to see. When he turned around, she pointed to the back of the truck w
here Van der Meer lay supine, eyes closed.

  A startled look crossed Sir Gregory’s face, and he turned to Thomas. He too glanced back, and they engaged in an animated discussion. They knew, as I did, that we had to find a place to stop. We needed to take care of Van der Meer; we needed to get help.

  Again I glanced behind us. As we passed a side road, I saw the Japanese truck approaching. They quickly turned the corner and were again in rapid pursuit.

  CHAPTER 37

  The soldier on the passenger’s side leaned out of the window, pointing his rifle at our truck. He aimed carefully, staring through the site, and then fired. The bullet hit the bumper and ricocheted onto the road.

  He had been trying to shoot the gas tank. I briefly thought of our truck exploding into a ball of fire, flames spiraling into the sky, but I dismissed it. I had enough to worry about. I couldn’t imagine disasters that might never occur.

  Sir Gregory was firing from the front seat. His first shot missed, but his second shattered the mirror on the passenger’s side of the Japanese truck. Then the driver veered to the side of the road, hiding behind our vehicle. Sir Gregory continued to fire, but he made no impact; the bullets missed the vehicle completely.

  I looked at Lady Jane’s gun. It was small, a Derringer that held five shots. I wasn’t comfortable with firearms. My father was a Protestant minister; there were no guns in the house I was raised in.

  “Do you have more bullets?” I asked.

  The gun was light, almost like a toy. I could manage it easily.

  “Yes,” she said. “They’re in my satchel. I’ll get them.”

  “Stay down,” I told her. “Lie on the floor.”

  I hid behind the tailgate, using it as shelter. Then I eased the corner of the canvas aside. The enemy’s truck was right behind us, barely thirty feet away. I pointed Lady Jane’s pistol at the driver and fired.

  I missed. It was hard to keep the weapon steady with the truck bouncing on the rutted road. The bullet hit the windshield in the center, near the top. The glass cracked and the vehicle swerved, but it then returned to the road.