A Song For Lisa

by Clifton La Bree

  A Song

  For

  Lisa

  A Novel By

  Clifton La Bree

  © 2004 by Author - Clifton La Bree

  Published by

  Fading Shadows Imprint

  New Boston, New Hampshire

  TheLaBreeFamily.com

  EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-943329-07-6

  Paper Back ISBN: 978-0-9746450-7-0

  Cover by Vivian LaBree

  Back Ground Photo By Michael LaBree

  No parts of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from the publisher except brief quotations of critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

  A story of courage that is a tribute to the human spirit. This novel is fictional, but descriptions of the Japanese treatment of prisoners' of war during World War II is factual. The courage and resourcefulness of the US army’s Rangers is typical of their daring exploits throughout the war.

  Dedicated to my wife Pauline, and my family, with thanks for all their support and encouragement

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Other Books By Author

  Chapter One

  SECRET

  FROM: Sixth Army Headquarters, Hollandia, New Guinea.

  TO: First Lieutenant Jonathon Wright, Commanding Officer Ranger Platoon, Code-Name Snapdragon.

  SUBJECT: Urgent change of orders.

  New intelligence has arrived at this command making it imperative that your previous orders be canceled. Repeat, previous orders are canceled. Your new orders are as follows:

  1. Maintain code name Snapdragon.

  2. The USS Submarine Tigerfish, on which you and your thirty-five men are now embarked, will insert you on the northeastern coast of Lingayen Gulf at a point given to Captain Turner.

  3. Your assault platoon of Rangers will be met by a Filipino guerrilla patrol at 2100 Hours on the evening of January 5, 1945.

  4. You are ordered to link up with the Filipino patrol and advance inland approximately ten miles under the cover of darkness to a prison compound located at an old sugar cane plantation south of Baguio. Urgent intelligence indicates that the inmates, and women and children are in grave danger of being massacred!

  5. The assault on Luzon is planned for 0600 Hours on January 9, 1945. It is imperative that you secure the prison compound and move the prisoners back along the same route so that the submarine can pick them up prior to the assault on Luzon.

  6. Memorize this message and burn in the presence of Captain of USS Tigerfish.

  Lieutenant General Walter Kreuger

  Commanding General Sixth Army.

  Lieutenant Jonathon Wright read the message twice before handing it back to the tall, slender captain of the USS Tigerfish. “What do you make of it, Captain?” he asked, concerned that the well-rehearsed mission he and his men had been preparing for was canceled at the last minute.

  “A number of long-range penetration missions in the Philippine Islands have been assigned to your Rangers,” said Captain Turner. “The intelligence gathering services of MacArthur’s Far East command has been efficient and reliable. My orders were changed at the same time. I have new coordinates for the point of land where you’ll pick up the Filipino patrol. Your radioman can make contact with the sub at any time between 2100 and 2400 hours when we’ll be running on the surface charging our batteries. If you get no answer from us it’s because we’re in danger of being discovered. Be patient and give us a little time to relocate before surfacing.”

  “I understand that, sir,” answered the studious Ranger officer, still uncomfortable with the change in orders. “If the prisoners are sickly and weak, which is a very likely situation, how will we be able to transport them back to the coast?”

  Captain Turner answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Some of the partisans might be able to provide water buffalo carts for those unable to walk. We’re at the end of the command chain, Lieutenant. I’m sure Sixth Army had just cause to alter your mission. They have more information than we do.”

  “The thing I like the least about this change is that success hinges on the performance of someone who’s a stranger to us,” Jonathon said, removing his Zippo lighter from his shirt pocket to burn the crumpled message in an ash tray on the wardroom table.

  “You have a few hours to review this with your men, Lieutenant,” announced Captain Turner, checking his watch. “We’re on course to the rendezvous point for your contact with the partisans. We’ll have you ashore shortly after 2100 hours. There’ll be a full moon tonight.”

  “That suits me fine. The risk of discovery is greater with the added light, but we can travel faster and easier in unknown territory. I’ll prepare the men. Thanks for everything, Captain Turner. I’m going to miss this cozy wardroom and your excellent coffee,” he smiled.

  “I wish you and your Rangers the best of luck, Lieutenant. You're making us all proud. The kind of humanitarian mission ahead of you separates the United States Army from the armies of the rest of the world. We’ll be waiting for your return with open arms and a full complement of fresh brewed coffee!”

  Lieutenant Jonathon Wright finished his coffee and left the wardroom. He was of medium height and build with sandy hair that always seemed uncombed. His expressive brown eyes could register sorrow and happiness in a single blink. He was a quiet studious young man. Most people liked him, yet he frequently kept to himself and selected his friends with care. Even though he was not as heavy or strong as many of the men in his command, there was an inner strength and conviction that made people feel at ease with him. He did not command his platoon, he led it by example with deep appreciation and consideration for the welfare of the men. They were inspired by his calm demeanor and would follow him anywhere. He had won their respect and affection which was a difficult juggling act for an officer to do. He never asked the men to do anything he would not do himself. His willingness to go to bat for them when he felt they were not getting fair treatment always placed him on the side of the angels. Most who knew Jonathon would describe him as a stable and dependable young man who did what he said he would do without fanfare.

  Jonathon was a graduate of the University of New Hampshire where he took advantage of the Reserve Officer Training Corps program to help pay his way through college. He had married his high school sweetheart from Monson, Maine, half way through college in 1939. Upon graduation with a degree in criminology June of 1941, he was offered a second lieutenant commission in the army. A full-time job as an officer had much appeal to him, especially the weekly paycheck. He was twenty-two years old when the war started.

  Jonathon crouched to get through the small passage doors of the submarine making his way to the compartment where his men and their equipment were located. They were packed into the confined quarters of the submarine in and around the deadly gray torpedoes. He was worried. There were too many unknowns beyond
his ability to control. How many Japanese were guarding the prison compound? How many prisoners were at the compound? What was their physical condition? A large body of people had more of a chance to be discovered by the Japanese. The Rangers were a lightly armed infantry unit with limited means of maintaining prolonged contact with the enemy.

  Jonathon was assured that the maps of the area he possessed were detailed and accurate. It was relatively flat land near the coastal plain which made travel easy. A few miles inland the terrain undulated with streams, swamps and jungle that could eliminate the possibility of using native carts to transport to the coast those inmates unable to walk. Existing cart tracks and trails would be dangerous for them to use because the Japanese could control most of them. The prospect of leading a large ponderous train of liberated prisoners through enemy held territory sent shivers through Jonathon’s body, but orders were meant to be obeyed.

  Second Lieutenant Hal Jacobs, second in command of Snapdragon, was a tall muscular man with dark complexion and deep-set eyes. There was something ominous about him that grabbed a person’s attention. His physical presence could be intimidating until he smiled, which was often. The grin brought out the easy going boyish nature in him that endeared him to the men. He never took himself seriously. A recent graduate of West Point Military Academy, he was anxious to do his part in winning the war. Jacobs had a pathological hatred for the Japanese. He read the look on Jonathon’s face and expected to hear bad news.

  “What’s wrong, Jon?”

  “Take a seat, Hal,” suggested Jonathon, waving his arms for the men to gather around and listen. He spelled out the contents of their new orders. A low moan of disappointment filled the compartment. “I know what you’re thinking, men. I had the same reaction, but it’s a mission that we’ve been handed and we’ll just have to make the best of it and carry it out. I want each of you to recheck your gear and mentally prepare yourselves for the task ahead of us. You’ve had the best training of any outfit in the United States combat services. I’m confident in your ability to adapt to any situation in which we find ourselves. Our original mission was to blow up strategic rail bridges to help isolate the beachhead. Now we won’t need the demolition material. We can leave it behind on the submarine.”

  “Should we stock up on extra food rations, sir?” asked a voice from the top bunks.

  “Smart thinking, soldier,” replied Jonathon. “My thoughts are that we should make the initial drive inland loaded with extra ammo and grenades. Our radio man can contact our air coordinator for a drop of extra foodstuff if we need it. We also have the option of calling for close air support if it’s absolutely necessary. I prefer remaining as elusive and invisible as possible until we get to the compound.”

  “What if carts aren’t available to transport sick and injured prisoners?” asked a young soldier, sitting on the deck cleaning his M-1 Garand rifle. Jonathon looked at the young corporal and marveled at the youth of his command, which varied from seventeen to twenty-two. The average age was eighteen.

  “I can’t answer that, corporal. It’s one of the unknowns we’ll have to overcome as we go along. I assume that the Filipino partisans will be able to fill us in on matters like that. They’ll also be able to describe the compound to us.” Jonathon checked his watch and paused.

  “Will we have time for chow before we leave the sub?” someone asked.

  “Yes. The captain has assured me that the galley will stuff us full before we leave,” Jonathon smiled. “If I had the room to carry it I’d bring along several thermos bottles of coffee, but so much for wishful thinking. Spend the rest of your time preparing for the mission by resting. Write home if you want. Leave the letters in the mailroom bins in the wardrooms. Men, this will be our first combat mission together and I feel confident that it’ll be a success. In the years to come you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren how you helped to liberate the Philippine Islands. We’ll be the vanguard of the army that General MacArthur promised would return. You’ll have plenty of time to gear up so relax as much as you can. Any questions?”

  “This is our first mission with you, sir,” said a short stocky man from Maine. He put into words what each man was thinking. “I know that you’ll be worrying about a lot of things. I just wanted to let you know that no matter how tough it gets out there, we’re with you one hundred percent. When the Japs meet this platoon, they’re taking on the first team and they’ll soon find out why we call ourselves the best.”

  A resonant cry of approval echoed from stem to stern on the submarine. Jonathon left the torpedo room with a broad smile on his lips and a warm glow in his heart. He had successfully bonded with the men and he had no reservations about their ability to close with the enemy.

  Two hours later, a loud voice sounded over the submarine’s intercom system. “This is Captain Turner speaking. We are approaching the northwestern shore of Lingayen Gulf. We will be discharging the Army Rangers within the hour in our inflatable rafts. They are some of the first Americans to enter occupied Luzon Island. Their mission is to rescue American prisoners now held by the Japanese and to escort them back to the coast where we’ll pick them up. They embark on a dangerous mission filled with unknowns and leave with our best wishes and fervent prayers for success.

  “They’ve earned our admiration and respect. May the angels guide them back to the Tigerfish. Godspeed Rangers. We’ll surface in ten minutes and proceed as close to the shore as the tide permits.”

  Jonathon and the men checked their weapons one last time. Their ammunition belts were filled to capacity. A grim silence filled the sub as the squad leaders checked each man. The platoon was composed of three squads of eleven men each. The single file they formed wound in and around all of the torpedo compartments.

  When the submarine surfaced, interior lights were turned off and replaced with dim red lamps to make the craft as invisible from prying eyes as possible. Sailors scurried from the conning tower and pulled the rubber inflatable rafts from the hull’s hatches. As soon as they were inflated, the sailors lined them up on the deck.

  The Rangers received word to load the rafts and began passing packs up through the small openings of the hatches. It took a while for the men to adjust to the darkness. The full moon was visible in the western sky making the evening surprisingly light after they got used to it. Lieutenants Jacobs and Jonathon checked each boat and whispered encouragement to the men. The two sailors in each boat would return to the submarine once they had delivered the Rangers on land. Jonathon signaled with a raised fist for the submarine to submerge enough for the boats to become buoyant. The heavily loaded inflatables slowly began their journey to the enemy shore as the submarine dove out of sight.

  Each man was left alone with his fears and anxieties. Fear was not altogether a bad emotion. In life-threatening situations it brought each person to the highest degree possible of alertness. They wondered if the enemy was waiting for them as soon as they stepped foot on shore. The island had over a half million Japanese soldiers, well dug in to repel any invasion from the Americans. Experience had shown the invading Americans just how stubbornly the Japanese defended their occupied territory to the last man alive.

  The first boat, with Jonathon on board, acted as guide to coordinate the rendezvous point with the partisan fighters. The coastal region was sparsely populated and intelligence experts did not indicate any large body of enemy troops in the vicinity. Over the past three years, Jonathon had fought through the central Pacific area and knew that one should not put too much faith in intelligence information. It had a tendency to be wrong, regardless of the source.

  The closer they got to the shore the more worried Jonathon became over the lack of response from the partisans. Captain Turner had assured him that the navigator on the sub was one of the best. The azimuth Jonathon was following to the shore seemed logical and correct, but he was increasingly apprehensive. They were on course. Where were the guerrillas? The navy paddlers guided the rafts into a small cove betwee
n two large rock formations and allowed the rafts to ride onto a small sandy beach. The Rangers silently evacuated the rafts and ran across the beach toward the thick vegetation farther inland where they set up a perimeter defense.

  Before leaving the submarine Jonathon had informed Captain Turner that he was going to proceed with the mission with or without the partisans. Most of the men were veterans of several operations involving intelligence gathering and mapping of enemy installations. Without local guerrilla assistance, Jonathon knew that the platoon was somewhat blind and vulnerable. Unintentionally running into a heavy concentration of enemy troops was a very real scenario that could blow their cover.

  The Rangers waited at the transition line between the beach and the jungle for several minutes listening to the sounds from the night. The normal cacophony of the nocturnal creatures of the jungle filled the warm, salty air. Nothing seemed unusual and Jonathon breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good! He hunkered close to the ground and unfolded his map while a soldier placed a poncho over his head to shield the light from his small flashlight. He studied the contours of the area between the coast and the sugar plantation where the prisoners were located. Laying his compass on the map he oriented it with the compass and penciled in a thin line to the compound. He memorized the azimuth of the line and checked his watch again. They had about seven hours of darkness to cover nine miles to the prison camp.

  Jonathon had studied the maps of the area and was confident that they could cover the distance to the compound by dawn when they would lay low to rest and observe the activities of the prison community. There were few roads in the area which suited him. He preferred making the trip through the jungle where chances of discovery were less likely.

  Two flanking scouts were sent out about one hundred feet on each side of the main body along the proposed line of travel. Lieutenant Jacobs was assigned the job of securing the tail of the column while Jonathon took the point position with the radioman at his side. He stood up to check the surrounding darkness fingering the safety on his Thompson submachine. For the first hour, he felt confident guiding the platoon by keeping the moon on his left shoulder. Every half hour he would stop to check his azimuth and realign the relative position of the moon which was constantly changing.