by Don DeNevi
Peter blinked. Then asked,
“How so? Where?”
“You’re needed for the upcoming assaults on Iwo Jima, Chichi Jima, Volcano and Bonin Islands, and most important of all, apparently, Okinawa. We’ve just taken Peleliu. the last element of the 1st Marine Division on that atoll was relieved by troops of the 81st Infantry Division. It’s the 4th Marine Base Defense Aircraft Wing redesignated 4th Marine Aircraft Wing that needs you, urgently. Believe it or not, it was none other than MacArthur himself who said all operations will stop until you return from your 10-day furlough. Some compliment to you, huh, hero?”
In the crisp night air, Peter was suddenly sullen, even as his heart throbbed with anxiety.
MacArthur? Involved in the planning and ordering his long overdue furlough? Where are all those islands this dignified man with the sad eyes knew by heart?
“Now, you listen,” the suddenly quiet, constrained officer said in a resolute tone, his normal facial expression as grim as an post-mortem.
“What you’ve shown in daring, imagination, ingenuity, and courage has earned you the admiration, respect, and trust of Naval Intelligence, all the way to the top, and frankly, beyond. What lies ahead, and the true reason for you being chosen for the special assignment, is laid out for you in that confidential memo you’re holding.”
“Your assignment is top-secret. It is a bizarre plan proposed by the supreme command, the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington, D.C. and personally approved by the President. The Strategic Services Operations Office of the Pacific Fleet in Honolulu will supervise your journey by submarine to the beach of an unspecified island where you will be met and led inward to meet, welcome, then guide a high Japanese officer who wants to change sides. The operation has not been given a code name, being so secret. Your effort, and success in facilitating his extraction is being considered one of the biggest items in the Pacific War. I can tell you nothing of the men you’ll be working with, timeframe, or the Japanese officer you’re retrieving.”
Peter waited for the officer to continue.
After a pause, the officer asked,
“Do you think you can sneak onto a Jap-occupied island and bring the turncoat out?”
“Of course, I can, or I’ll die trying. tell me more about the man.”
“I will, but let me tell you, by God, your answer is the most refreshing thing I’ve heard thus far in this ocean war. No one in Naval Intelligence has said it was possible. Now, let me share with you what I know as the Chief, Liaison Office, US Naval Intelligence, attached to both the Army and Marines, for your information, sir,” he said with a mitigating look.
“Now, for the Japanese officer you’re to get out and bring back, Second Lieutenant Minoru Wada, an 100th Division Staff Intelligence Officer in the Imperial Army. He’s only 26, but a man of absolute peace. Such men are always welcomed by the U.S. because they are the most dangerous adversaries of established military orders.”
“Well, it seems throughout the Pacific, the Japanese Army is fighting to the bitter end. The 100th Division is commanded by General Jiro Harada. Wada is on his staff and is willing to bring to our side valuable information on entrenched positions, fortifications, and troop movements. He stands apart from fellow Japanese officers. He speaks very little English.”
“How so?” Peter asked.
“Wada is a Kibei, born in the San Joaquin Valley of California, went to Japan for education, then was trapped in Japan by Pearl Harbor. Because he really is a U.S. Citizen, he wants to desert and get back to this country, even though his family is interned.”
“So,” Peter continued, “he was pressed into the Imperial Japanese Army, disillusioned with the Pacific War, and is in touch by a secret transmitter with our intelligence people.”
“Yup, that’s it. Your final instructions and route by submarine will be revealed at Nimitz’s headquarters at Hickam Field in Honolulu.”
Peter thought a moment, then commented, “Intelligence personnel of the enemy is critical to winning the ware. Not only could he help interrogate captured high-ranking Japanese officers, but also, he could prevent Japanese soldiers who, because of the Bushido Code, would rather die by their own hand than surrender. Wada is a traitor and wants to help our boys live rather than kill them. I have to go get him, no question about it.”
“Yes. Now you skedaddle to Stockton and surprise the living daylights out of Mom and Dad. And, if you leave this moment, you’ll just catch them before bedtime. Once airborne, by the time you finish reading your letters, you’ll be landing at the municipal airport south of the city. A staff car will be waiting to drive you home. Now, go, Lieutenant. We’ll be in contact with you as your furlough ends and you return here at Treasure to board a PBY for the nonstop to Hickam. Good luck, boy,” the officer said with a quick, disarming smile as he patted Peter’s shoulder.
“My Elliott stockade fellow escapees? How will I know how to reach them? Where they are? I want them as my lifelong friends.”
“We’re taking care of it as we speak. Peter, if I can address you by your first name. When you return with Wada, they’ll be waiting for you. I’m seeing to it personally.”
“How do I possibly thank you? In less than an hour you jarred me so much I’m floating so high I don’t need one of your medical Piper Cubs to fly me to South Stockton.”
“Go, son, go. Your instinct of self-preservation will get you through, then back to our lines with Wada. God only knows how many lives of our boys you two will save.”
The night was no cold as the staff car sped Peter to the Alameda Naval Air Station airfield and waiting Piper Cub Navy HE-1’s. Without fanfare of any sort, he boarded and sat beside the pilot. Reaching behind him, he pulled up a blanket, settled himself as much as he could. Myriads of stars glittered at him as the aircraft taxied for takeoff. Although everything in Peter’s life had become topsy-turvy, he was overjoyed. For 10 days, his responsibilities in eradicating reptilian cruelty and absolute ruthlessness would fade. He would momentarily be free.
Although he was exceptionally weary and yearned to close his eyes for a short catnap, he fondly fingered the envelopes he had shoved into his front pants pocket. He would save and favor them, upon awakening. Suddenly, Peter, fondling the letters almost lovingly, fingered a folded one-page piece of paper. Opening it, the strange hither to unobserved note read as follows:
To: Lieutenant Toscanini, USN
From: Men of Naval Intelligence
Subject: An Unofficial Statement of Support
Despite the War in the Pacific, nearing completion with unconditional surrender, death and destruction, commotion and chaos, it is impossible to predict the future. You and the other warrior-intellects in the shadows of today’s atrocities are destined to shine in tomorrow’s future. The Ghoul’s evil iniquities and stockade murders could have crushed your soul, leaving you suffocating and impotent. Yet your unselfish acceptance of infiltrating a dangerous enemy area to liberate a former enemy bolsters our hope of shortening the conflict, saving undetermined numbers of lives. Such true heroism is born of valorous spirit of your patriotism and therefore carry you with confidence on our shoulders.
(Signed by 26 officers, USN Naval Intelligence Six Fleet)
The worlds of the Chief Liaison Office of the U.S. Naval Intelligence, and many others were so meaningful they seemed to lightly vacillate in his head. He was so tired, so terribly tired, that with a sign, and a fading glimpse of a trillion bright twinkling starts, he closed his eyes, and amid the drone of the aircraft, fell asleep.
THE END
MEET THE AUTHOR
Don DeNevi
Don DeNevi was born in Stockton, California, where his father ran a hardware store. Seeing the Stanley Kramer film “My Six Convicts” at the age of 14 incited a life-long fascination with the psychology of imprisonment and the viability of rehabilitation. In the late 1950s, he interned as a teacher at a prison near Stockton before graduating from College of the Pacific with a B.A. in History. He c
ontinued his education at U.C. Berkeley, from which he received his Ed. D in the early 1970s, and has since taught classes such as Criminal Profiling, Organized Crime in America, Classic Crime Cinema and Understanding the Criminal Mind at multiple colleges throughout the Bay Area. In addition, Don was Recreation Director at San Quentin State Prison for 15 years, where he introduced a comprehensive recreation program and built the prison’s first tennis court. The author of dozens of books, Don is a prolific writer and a fan favorite for many readers.