We turned around and headed back to my room at the hospital. My release was due soon, but I hadn’t yet been informed where I would be heading.
“Malaya, I haven’t told you enough how much I appreciate all you did for us.”
“This is not necessary, Major.”
“Yes, it is.” I stopped walking and so did she. “If you hadn’t put yourself in harm’s way every single day, we might have lost even more lives. The Americans might not have even been able to come back.”
She tilted her head. “The Americans? You speak as if you are not one of them.”
“I think some part of me isn’t anymore.”
She stepped closer and started to put her hand on my chest before stopping herself. Instead, she looked up at me with sadness. “Major, you will always be welcome in the Philippines. You have a home here, if you ever want to return.”
My pulse quickened. “Thank you, Lieutenant. That means more to me than you know.”
I held her gaze a moment longer before breaking the trance and heading back to the hospital. My mind was flooded with conflicting emotions, and I was relieved when Malaya said goodbye to me in the lobby. I needed to think straight, to figure out what was happening to me, both physically and mentally.
When I returned to my room, General Dorsey, whom I’d first met in MacArthur’s office, was waiting on me. He shook my hand and asked how I was doing.
My face flushed hot with embarrassment. Did the entire island know of my breakdown? “I’m all right, sir. Just got a little out of sorts is all.”
“It’s certainly to be expected, given everything you’ve been through.”
“There are plenty of men who’ve been through worse, sir.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid there may be worse still. The Japanese are dug in to tiny islands all across the Pacific, like nests of ants. Gonna be a long, bloody march to Tokyo. Not sure too many folks really understand what’s ahead.”
“Sounds like you do,” I said.
He studied me for a moment. “I’d bet my last dollar you know pretty well yourself.”
I thought of all I’d seen over the past four years, of the torture and brutality the Japanese were capable of inflicting. Yes, I knew what still lay ahead. “Sir, if there’s concern over my ability to continue in my duties, let me assure you, I am ready and able to fight every last Jap left on earth.”
“Major Doyle, I have no doubt you’d perform your duties honorably until your dying breath.”
Honorably, I thought. Not quite.
General Dorsey leaned against the windowsill and gestured toward me. “But by the looks of things, that dying breath might come pretty quick if you don’t get serious treatment.”
“Sir, I realize I’m not at a hundred percent, but I need to get back to my men. The Japanese are still on these islands, and I want to do everything I can to help the Filipino people reclaim their country.” Without warning, my throat tightened, and I felt overwhelmed with desperation. “Sir,” I continued. “I came close to death more times than I care to remember, and every time, I was saved by brave Filipinos who risked their lives for mine. I owe it to them to stay until the job is done.”
General Dorsey straightened and patted me on the shoulder. “Major, your work here has been admirable and of the highest character. But it’s over. Orders have already been sent through. You’re heading back home for treatment, and after that, probably an honorable discharge. Be happy. You’ve earned it.”
My heart rate sped up again, and the same sensations I’d felt during the breakdown returned. My hand trembled, so I squeezed it into a fist then released it. Home. What did that even mean anymore? My legs weakened, so I sat down on the edge of my bed.
“When?” I managed.
“Two days. You’ll fly out to Hawaii, and then on to San Francisco before being admitted to the base hospital in San Antonio. Your wife has been contacted, and she’ll meet you in San Francisco.”
My wife.
I was going to see Ruby again. In two days. I couldn’t even picture in my mind what that would be like.
General Dorsey took a seat across from me and began to speak about something else, an award or something, but I could barely focus on his words. My mind was searching for images of Ruby, memories I’d shut out so well I’d almost convinced myself they weren’t real. I saw her standing in front of me, smiling as I’d said my vows. I felt her slight frame in my arms, beneath me as she’d told me how much she loved me. She was real. As strange as it seemed, I had to tell myself that again.
Ruby is real.
***
I still wasn’t sleeping well, especially the night before I was to leave for the States. I’d spent the better part of four years sleeping on the ground, and adjusting to a mattress again felt foreign. The more I thought about going back, the more alien everything about America seemed.
The morning of my departure, I had my only bag packed with a spare uniform, my two pistols, a few of the birthday gifts I’d received, my official orders and some other papers, and a Bible I’d gotten from a missionary at the hospital.
A private carried my bag out to the car that was waiting to take me to Nichol’s Field that morning. It was humiliating to be so weak, so vulnerable. The doctors in Manila had gotten my “nervous episodes” under control, but I was still dependent on heavy medication every day, and I tired out so easily I couldn’t get around much.
I made my way down the steps and climbed into the car under my own steam, determined to do even the smallest tasks in my capability. Then we took the short trip over to the army air base.
When the car pulled up near the C-54 on which I was scheduled to fly, I stepped out to find a small party awaiting me. General Dorsey stood at the end of two columns of men from my unit. Several of the higher-ranking officers, including Diego and Bruno, stood near General Dorsey. My chest swelled to see them in crisp, clean uniforms, just as they deserved.
As my bag was loaded onto the plane, I headed over to the beginning of the columns, where the two lines gave me a proper salute. All of them except for Bruno, of course. He just stood there at the end of the column on my right, stiff as a board like the rest, hands to his sides, and a sour expression on his face. I could hope for nothing more fitting.
I walked between the columns of men who’d served me faithfully, who’d risked their lives for their fellow countrymen, and who had all lost some part of themselves in this war. I saluted each of them, working my way to the end where I finally faced my closest and most trusted brothers.
Bruno almost smiled at me. “I wish you safe travels and good health, Major.”
I reached for his hand. “And I wish you joy and peace, my friend. Thank you for keeping me alive.”
He shook my hand, his nearly swallowing mine. “You are welcome. In the future, you should try to listen to doctors more. You might feel better sooner.”
I laughed and released his hand, stepping over to face Diego. “I owe my life to you more times than I can count. Thank you for your devotion.”
“It is you whom we honor here today, Major. You are always welcome among our people. Your return will be highly celebrated some day.”
My throat tightened, and I had to concentrate on keeping my limbs steady. They were already quivering from fatigue. I embraced Diego, catching sight of Malaya just behind him as I did so. Releasing him, I faced General Dorsey.
“Major Matthew Doyle,” he said. “It is my honor to be able to present to you today the Silver Star for your gallantry on April 30, 1942, when despite great danger to yourself, you held off a Japanese patrol so that a plane full of your fellow servicemen and women could escape Mindanao for Australia.”
He pinned the medal on the breast pocket of my uniform, then stepped back and gave me a salute. I saluted in return, doing my best to keep my arm from quivering.
“Thank you for your service,” Dorsey said, extending his hand.
I shook it as firmly as I could. “Aye, aye, sir.”
<
br /> “I wish all the best to you and your wife, and I hope you have a speedy and full recovery.”
I turned back to Diego and Malaya, who walked me to the ramp of the plane.
“Diego, you have served honorably,” I said. “I’m relieving you of your duties.”
He looked from me to Malaya, and back again. “Yes, Major. May God bless your journey.”
As he headed back to the group of men gathering near the car, I took one look at Malaya and knew I had to make this farewell quick. My strength was failing, and I was determined to leave the Philippines with at least some dignity.
“Malaya, thank you for all you’ve done for me. None of this would have been possible without you.”
“I wish you much joy and love, Major. You are a strong man, with a strong heart. You have given my people a chance to be free again. I will never forget you.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful she’d left her true feelings unspoken. For all Malaya’s care for me, I had never truly returned her affections. Although I’d pushed thoughts of Ruby aside out of necessity, I could never break my vows to her. “Take care of yourself.”
“Goodbye, Major.” A tear fell down her cheek before she could swipe it away. Abruptly she turned and walked over to join the group waiting to wave one last time.
I shuffled up to the top of the ramp, doing my best to hide how much effort it was taking. I waved one last time to the group of people who had become my family through so much turmoil. They waved in return, and I stepped into the plane.
A nurse traveling with me helped to seat me as comfortably as possible for the twenty-one hour flight to Honolulu. She gave me some medication to help me relax, and then took her own seat across the aisle. As the plane taxied and lifted into the air, I took one last look at the remains of the island that had held me captive for four years.
I wondered if Europe also looked this way, with huge craters and rubble scattered endlessly across the land. But as I watched the landscape shift from the destruction of Manila to the rolling green foothills in the east, I felt my chest grow heavy with regret. So much had happened out there, so much struggle, so much joy in small triumphs. And I’d never be the same again.
I thought of what lay ahead and what it would be like to see Ruby again. How would I ever share with her all that had happened over the past four years? How would I ever explain? I rested my head back against the seat, feeling the meds work their magic on my mind. I drifted toward the blackness of sleep, with only one thought in my mind. Would she ever forgive me?
Chapter Eight
Matthew
June, 1942
Northeast of Manila, Philippines
Time moved in fits and starts the first few days after Henry and his companions saved me. Because of the bullet wound to my leg, I couldn’t keep up, so they took turns carrying me in a makeshift litter through the foothills. The rocking made me want to vomit, but luckily I was too weak to muster the energy for such activities.
After two days of traveling by night and resting during the day, we came across a small village of Filipinos who fed us and offered to guide us to a secret camp set up for straggling American soldiers. They provided two carabao and wooden carts in which we could conceal ourselves. This proved to be a blessing from God, since the caravan was stopped three times by Japanese patrols. Luckily, as our guides spoke no English, the Japanese must have assumed they wouldn’t be hauling Americans and never looked under the rice straw concealing us.
The journey was hard on my body. Sometimes the fever hit me so hard, I was out of my head. I’d hear Kojima calling out my name in his fiery Japanese accent, telling me to surrender while I still could. Other times, I’d see Ruby moving through the jungle beside the cart, her gaze on me as she floated along. My whole body ached to reach out to her. But I couldn’t have moved even if I’d wanted to.
We finally reached the small camp in the foothills of a large mountain. I was pulled off the cart and carried into a hut, where they placed me on a palette on the floor. I knew there were several men involved in my transportation, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to distinguish any of them.
I lay in a state of feverish chills and nausea for several more days, mostly unaware of anything going on around me. I stumbled through visions that left me in pools of sweat and screaming for Ruby. In one such vision, I once again lay in the tiny fishing canoe of a Filipino family trying to help me escape Mindanao. I lay low in the boat, hidden within the foliage of the mangrove trees whose roots sprawled out into the water along the coastline. It was the first time I’d ever seen Kojima. He appeared slight in stature, and he carried a sharpened swagger stick instead of a samurai sword. He yelled at the father, beat the mother, and pointed his gun at the children. When the father shook his head, Kojima shot him on the spot. I was so weak, and so shocked, I couldn’t move. I’d lain there for another day before the wife brought me food and a relative to act as my guide. I had no way of thanking her but to pray for her and her children before being paddled north into the Mindanao Sea.
Other times I dreamed of home, of the grassy slope behind my parents’ house, the smell of the white ginger lilies my mother so carefully tended, of the cool dew on my bare feet in the early morning.
At some point, I awoke with a fuzzy sense of time and place, and I remembered where I was, or rather, where I was not. I rolled onto my side to see Henry seated on the other side of the hut, his back against the bamboo wall, his elbows propped on his knees. He puffed on a cigarette and smiled at me.
“Welcome back,” he said. “How ya feeling?”
“Like I was dragged through the jungle with a rope tied around me, then beat half to death.”
“That’s not far from the way of things.”
“Where are we?” I asked, pushing myself up on my elbow and looking around. Another man lay on a palette like mine a few feet away from me, his body swollen grotesquely with the obvious signs of beriberi. He too seemed to be mumbling through disturbing dreams. The door to the hut was open, and through it I could see more men outside milling around.
“It’s a camp set up by a guy named Vasco Alapa and his family,” Henry said. “They came over from Hawaii some years back and had a pretty wealthy sugar plantation going before the Japs overran everything. Alapa set this place up to give American soldiers on the run a place to recuperate.”
“How safe are we here?”
“About as safe as anywhere else, I reckon. Seems to be about eighty men at any given time. Bound to get found out, though. Too many men moving in and out of this place for the Japs not to find us. We should make some plans to move out of here as soon as you’re well enough.”
“Where are the others?”
“The others?”
“The guys you were with when you found me.”
“Oh, yes.” He nodded and sucked deeply on the tiny butt left of the cigarette. “They left already. Bit jittery. They’re trying to find a boat capable of getting them to Australia.”
“Maybe that’s what we should do.”
“I don’t know. From what I understand, the Japs have the Philippines blockaded. Sounds like a good way to get caught.”
I tried to push myself up to a sitting position, but my body wasn’t quite having it yet. My head swam, and the room spun for a second. I moaned and lay back on the palette.
“Yeah, you’re gonna need a couple more days before you’re up to snuff,” Henry said. He pushed away from the wall and came over to my side. “Let me check your leg. It was festering a bit yesterday. A doc came by and treated it with some sulfa.” He helped me roll onto my left side and pulled away my pants leg where someone had cut it open. “Does that hurt?” he asked, running a finger around the edge.
“Everything hurts,” I said. “That don’t feel any different than anywhere else.”
“Looks a little better. You’re still burning up, though. We should get some food and water in you. Sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”
He d
ucked out of the hut, leaving me to watch the goings on outside. Through the door, I could see four more huts like ours and about ten or twelve men sitting on stumps or logs around each hut. Every one of them was puffing on a cigarette. Most had some sort of bandaging somewhere on his body. All of them were emaciated.
Henry came back inside with a small bowl of rice and some water. I scarfed it down in five seconds. “Is that all there is?”
He shrugged. “For now. I can go out later and try to catch something. How ya feeling now?”
“My feet are killing me, like my shoes are two sizes too small. Can you take them off?”
Henry lifted an eyebrow. “They’re already off.”
I looked down at my feet and sure enough, all I had on them was a pair of socks with holes in the heels. “Well, that can’t be good.”
“Everybody’s feet’s in bad shape. Hardly anybody has on shoes. We should try to get some before we leave.”
“You have a plan? Where are we going?”
He scooted across the floor and leaned back against the wall again. I noticed he was in only slightly better shape than I was. He was thinner than I’d ever seen him, and his eyes—Ruby’s eyes—had dark circles beneath them. The last time I’d seen him was just after Janine’s death. I wondered if he too had disturbing dreams. “I been doing a little scouting while you were writhing around,” he said. “I think we should head further north into the mountains like the other fellas. Join up with the guerrillas. I say we give the Japs all they can handle until MacArthur comes back.”
“I’m not sure how much I can give the Japs with the state I’m in, but I’ll give it some thought.”
Henry smiled at me, a haunted, grim sort of smile. “All right. I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”
***
The next day, I was able to sit up and even walk around just outside the hut. Henry brought me a pair of uniform pants that weren’t exactly clean, but at least hadn’t been sliced up. I didn’t want to think about where he’d gotten them. We walked through the camp together slowly due to the severity of my limp. I still couldn’t get any shoes on my feet, so that only added to my discomfort.
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 7