Prisoner of War

by Michael P. Spradlin

  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from coming. I knew I shouldn’t cry. Gunny’s words still rang in my ears. Dig down deep. But everything seemed hopeless. At that moment I was certain I couldn’t go on living. It was the most miserable I’d ever been. Thoughts cascaded through my head like ocean waves. I wished I’d died fighting. Or that I was back home in Duluth, even if it meant taking another thrashing from Pa every night. His beatings were nothing compared to this. How could I have been so stupid?

  When I’d cried myself out, I slowly raised my head a few inches and tried to get a sense of where I was. The cage sat next to the fence on the very edge of the camp. Twisting my head to the left, I spotted three guards about twenty yards away. They were leaning against the fence smoking cigarettes and chatting, none of them paying me any attention. I wondered where Gunny and Jams were and if they were looking for me.

  All day I was stuck in that position. I thought if I didn’t get a drink of water and straighten my legs soon I might go insane. I was reduced to licking some of the sweat off my wrist. Before long I was so dehydrated I wasn’t even sweating anymore.

  I dozed off and on. Twilight arrived, and two of the guards took off, leaving a single guard alone by the fence. I had no idea where the other two had gone, but the remaining guard acted like I wasn’t even there.

  “Hey!” I shouted at the guard. “I need some water! Let me out of here!”

  The guard glanced over at me but ignored my plea.

  “Let me out! Let me out!” I shouted over and over. Finally the guard sighed and strolled over to the cage. He stuck his rifle butt through one of the openings between the bars and poked me hard in the stomach. Then he spun on his heel and returned to his spot.

  I lay there not knowing what else to do. I finally gave up even trying to be comfortable and drifted into restless sleep.

  “Hey, Yank!” a quiet voice whispered from out of the darkness. I jerked awake, startled.

  “Who’s there?” I asked.

  “Shh. Quiet, mate. Don’t want to wake the guard, now do we?” the voice said with a thick Australian accent.

  I peered into the darkness but saw no one. “Who are you?”

  “Name is Wilson. But all me mates call me Willy.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Me and a couple of the boys here have come to get you out,” Willy said.

  “What? You can’t do that. They’ll kill you if you try to escape,” I said.

  “Oh, we ain’t escaping,” Willy whispered. “Me and my mates is right bloody grateful to you for stepping in and saving Marty like you did. What’s your name, Yank?”

  “I didn’t … Forrest. My name is Henry Forrest,” I stammered, “but everybody calls me Tree.” The disorientation and confusion were slowly overwhelming me. It made me wonder for a moment if the voices were all in my head. Was I hallucinating?

  “Well, Mr. Tree Forrest, we’re Australians from the 2nd AIF. We owe you for saving Marty. And a debt is a debt. I’m with two buddies, Smitty and Davis. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

  “But … Willy … suppose you get me out? Won’t the Japanese be awful upset if they find an empty cage when the sun comes up?”

  “Ah. Here’s the beauty of the plan, Henry. It won’t be empty. Smitty here, he’s about your size, and he got himself roughed up pretty good in that melee you started by knocking that guard on his tiny Imperial Japanese Army butt. Smitty’s face is all askew, just like yours. But otherwise he’s in fine form. Smitty, tell the boy you’re good to go,” Willy said.

  “I’m in good shape, Henry. A fair sight better than you, I’ll wager. I’m right as rain, as you Yanks is fond of saying,” Smitty said.

  “And you see, that’s the beauty of our plan. Smitty is gonna take your place. The emperor’s boys can’t tell one of us from the other. Same size, same hair color, same messed-up face. It’ll be easy as a walkabout. So Davis here, he’s going to pick the lock, seeing as before the war he was … Well, let’s not worry about what he was before all the shooting started. And Smitty is going to climb in the cage and pretend to be you, and we’ll get you back to your unit. Nobody will be none the wiser.”

  “I can’t let anybody do that. You get caught and they’ll kill you,” I said. “Besides, there’s a guard in the camp—Scarface—he knows me. We already had a couple of run-ins. He beat me good on the march here. For all I know, he helped put me in this cage. If he sees me walking free, he’s gonna wonder. And he’s a mean one. I watched him kill a man right in front of me. Poor Marine didn’t even do a thing.”

  “Scarface?” Willy asked.

  “He’s got a long scar runs down the side of his face.”

  Willy quietly chuckled. “Ah. I suspect old Scarface wouldn’t be happy if he knew about that nickname. I’ll say this for you, Henry Forrest. You are one righteous Yank. Tougher than a dingo on a bone, I’ll wager. But Smitty here is tough, too. Probably the orneriest bloke in our outfit. And it’s been decided we owe you, for jumping in and saving Marty. They’ll let Smitty out eventually. He’s got some water and a little food spirited in hidden spots on his person. And if they don’t let him free, we’ll come break him out, like we’re about to do you. He’ll be fine. Let us help you. If this Scarface sees you, how’s he gonna know it wasn’t one of his Japanese mates that let you out?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wanted out of the cage in the worst way. But I couldn’t let another man take my punishment. It wasn’t right. I had lied to enlist, but I still considered myself honor bound by the oath I’d sworn to the Marines. A Marine was supposed to fight the enemy. If you got caught, you were a prisoner, and that was that. It wasn’t like you could tag someone and they could come in and take your spot.

  As it turned out, the Aussies made the decision for me. I heard the hinges on the cage door squeak open.

  “Henry,” Smitty whispered. “I suspect it’s going to be right painful when we lift you outta there, being all scrunched up and such. But you’ve gotta be quiet, so we don’t alert our friend over there by the fence.”

  Two pairs of hands reached inside and lifted me out. I choked down an agonizing groan as the sudden movement sent jolts of pain up and down my spine. The two men lay me gently on the ground. Now that my good eye had adjusted, I could see them moving in the shadowy light. I watched as another man crawled inside the cage. The big man named Davis locked the crate again with a piece of wire.

  “Smitty,” Willy said, “we’ll be keeping an eye on you. Stay strong now.”

  “No worries, Willy. Gives me a chance to catch some shut-eye. Forrest, far as I’m concerned, from this point on you’re an Aussie through and through. You’re one of us. Ain’t a man in our unit won’t step up for you, if you need it. Good luck, mate.”

  “Can you walk?” Willy asked me.

  “I don’t know. I’m no—” Before I could even finish answering, Davis plucked me off the ground like I was a pillow and carried me off into the darkness. I was amazed at the man’s strength; it was my size that had gotten me into the Marines in the first place. I wondered if all Australians were this strong.

  “You know where your unit is?” Willy asked as we kept to the shadows, stealing through the rows of barracks and avoiding the light from torches and patrolling Japanese guards.

  “I didn’t have a unit left, really. All that’s left of the 15th Infantry is me and Gunny McAdams and Corporal Jamison. Last I saw them, Jams and Gunny were sleeping against a barracks wall somewhere in the middle of camp. But I have no idea where—”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Right now we’ll take you to our barracks. We got a corpsman can check you over. And Marty wants to thank you. He’s right grateful.”

  “You shouldn’t have saved me. It could get you executed.”

  To my surprise, Willy laughed.

  “Aw, heck, mate. Do you want to live forever?”

  I was treated like a movie star when we got back to the Australian barracks. Every s
ingle man came forward and shook my hand. Even though it made me wince. Finally, the big man they called Marty stepped out of the crowd.

  He was one of the largest men I’d ever seen. His upper arms were the size of pumpkins, and his forearms were thick and roped with muscle. He had a towel around his neck and used it to dab sweat from his swollen, cut-up face. Curly black hair and a thick beard surrounded his head like a long-haired cat wrapped around a ball.

  He stuck out a giant hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, Henry. Name’s Joe Martin. Sergeant in the 2nd AIF. I owe you my life. From now on, if you need me—if you need any of these men here for anything—all you gotta do is say the word.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Sergeant Martin,” I said.

  “Bah,” he answered. “That little wallaby would’ve killed me if you hadn’t jumped on him the way you did. So from now on, you need the help of anyone in the 2nd, it’s yours. And call me Marty, why don’t you.”

  I glanced around at the faces peering at him in the flickering light of the torches.

  “Something on your mind, lad?” Marty asked.

  “Yeah. What’s a wallaby?” I asked.

  For some reason the Australians found this uproariously funny. They all laughed and clapped each other on the back. It made me feel good, for the first time in a while.

  Another man stepped out of the crowd. He was tall and blond, tending to the thin side. He wore a pair of glasses with round lenses.

  “Name’s Howard. I’m a medical corpsman. Let me take a look at you.”

  They led me to a corner of the barracks where there was a mat on the floor. A couple of the men helped me lie down, and I tried to groan as little as possible. All these men looked exceptionally tough. I really didn’t want them thinking I was a weakling. Corpsman Howard knelt next to me.

  “Tell me where you hurt the worst, mate,” he said.

  I didn’t even know where to start, but gave him a rundown of my injuries. Someone handed me a canteen, and I drank from it greedily. I realized I was being a pig and stopped, handing it back. Howard pushed it back to me. “Drink up. We got more water.” I nearly guzzled down the entire canteen in one gulp.

  Howard looked at my good eye and gently pried open the one that was swollen shut. It hurt, but I only winced a little.

  “I don’t think you have a concussion. Your pupils look fine. The swelling will go down.” He probed my ribs with his fingers and then looked at my left ankle, which was also swollen. “Riggsy, get me some cloth and tear it into strips. We’ll wrap those ribs and your ankle. I think the ankle is sprained, not broken. And your ribs are bruised, but I don’t feel any breaks. I’ll say one thing for you, Yank, you can take a punch. That little guard was going at you like a croc on a tasty fish. You took everything he had to give and then some. Well done. Now you best try and rest. When’s the last time you ate anything?” Howard asked.

  “I don’t remember. Since right before the surrender, I think. A few days ago,” I said.

  Howard looked at the Aussies clustered around the mat. “Somebody hit the stash and find him something to eat.” A few minutes later half a mango appeared before me. I couldn’t help myself and wolfed it down, licking the juice from my fingers. Then I lay back down on the mat.

  “You go ahead and sleep,” said Howard. “In the morning we’ll find your unit. Who should we look for?”

  “Gunnery Sergeant Jack McAdams and Corporal Billy Jamison of the 15th Marine Infantry Battalion.”

  “Done,” Howard said. “Now you rest.”

  And so I did. For the first time since the surrender I felt relatively safe. These men were not going to let anything bad happen to me. At least not tonight.

  When I woke up Gunny was standing over me, and he looked madder than mad.

  “Why good mornin’, Private Forrest. Tell me, did ya enjoy yer stay here at the Philippine Waldorf Astoria?”

  “I, uh … ”

  “Yer lucky I didn’t wake you up with my official United States Marine Corps issue boot in your hind parts. What did I tell ya about keepin’ out of trouble?” Gunny’s eyes were ablaze. I squirmed, desperately wanting to be anywhere else.

  I glanced around and saw Willy and Davis standing on the other side of the mat.

  “Looks like we found your unit, mate,” Willy said.

  “Looks like it,” I said, not entirely sure I was as pleased about it as I’d thought I’d be.

  Willy stuck out his hand, and Gunny reluctantly shook it.

  “Don’t be too hard on the lad, Gunny, if you please. He’s a right tough Yank, and he done saved the life of our first sergeant. The least we could do was give him a little aid and comfort,” Willy said, smiling.

  Gunny looked at Willy and let out a big sigh.

  “Look. I appreciate y’all takin’ care of my boy here. But Henry is … I’m sure you understand … You’re a noncom, like me. He’s one of my men. And he’s special. I promised myself I’d keep him alive. Trouble is, he keeps gettin’ himself messed up and makin’ my job harder. And I ain’t got eyes in the back of my head. I’m gonna have to lock the boy up if he keeps wanderin’ off like a two-year-old. And as y’all may have noticed, he seems to have a talent for stickin’ his nose into situations that don’t require it.”

  Willy’s face broke into a big grin. He nodded at Gunny in understanding.

  “Well, Gunny, I can tell you this. So far we’ve found fifteen of us in this camp from the 2nd AIF. The roughest, toughest, fightingest outfit in the entire Australian military. And as of now, your Private Forrest is one of us. So no worries, mate. We’ll help you keep an eye on old Henry here.”

  Gunny shook his head and looked at me. Frustration was written all over his face.

  “I don’t know how ya do it, Tree.”

  “I like how you call him Tree,” Willy chuckled. “Fits him. He ain’t quite as big as the Sarge or Davis here, but you seem to grow ’em tall in the US of A.”

  “Yeah,” Gunny said. “But lookin’ at the size of some of yer Australia boys, I’m thinkin’ I might have to change his name to Shrub.”

  Willy laughed, and I felt better. I could tell Gunny was over being mad, at least for a while. And the Aussies were growing on him. I guess fighting men were the same everywhere.

  “All right, Tree,” Gunny said. “We gotta get ya on your feet and back to the barracks. You ready?”

  Willy and Gunny took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. I felt a little better but was still pretty sore. My ribs had been wrapped, making it hard to breathe, but with the bandage tight around my ankle, I could stand, though it still hurt.

  “You blokes got any food?” Willy asked.

  “No. Our hosts ain’t seen fit to come by with a room service menu yet,” Gunny said.

  “Davis, hit the stash. Get these boys somethin’ to eat,” Willy said.

  Davis walked to the far corner of the barracks. The building was like ours, a three-sided hut. It offered little protection from the elements, and the open side made it easy for the guards to keep an eye on us. Glancing about to make sure no one was watching, Davis pried up one of the floorboards. Reaching beneath it, he removed another mango and a banana.

  He replaced the floorboard and handed the fruit to Gunny. I could tell Gunny’s mouth was watering. Holding the fruit, he looked at Willy with wonder on his face.

  “How’d y’all get yer mitts on the fruit?” Gunny asked.

  “There are ways. You just gotta outsneak the sneaking guards. We’ll fill you in.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” Gunny said. He squirreled the fruit away in his blouse.

  “Ready, Tree?” he asked.

  “I guess, Gunny.”

  We left the Aussies behind to a lot of shouts of good cheer and well-wishing. I felt better but still shambled along, unable to take a full stride without pain. My mood had improved dramatically since they had pulled me from the cage.

  The cage.

  “Gunny, we need to go
check on the guy they traded me out for. He’s still in that cage.”

  “No, we don’t, Tree. We ain’t goin’ back there. One of them guards recognizes ya and it’s a bayonet through yer gut. The Aussies got it covered.”

  “I gotta make sure the guy is okay. He took my place, for crying out loud.”

  “Tree, I’m tellin’—”

  He never got to finish what he had to say. Because when we turned the corner to reach our barracks, there stood Scarface. He was holding his rifle at port arms.

  And he didn’t have a happy look on his face.

  “Tree,” Gunny whispered. “This host of ours has got it in for ya real bad. You let me do the yakkin’, understand? No matter what happens to me, no matter how bad it gets, you stand your ground and stay out of it. Am I clear?”

  “Gunny, I’m not gonna let—”

  “Darn it, Tree, I’m gettin’ sick of arguin’. I’m givin’ ya a direct order.”

  I didn’t say anything. Fear had overtaken me again. Even though I’d stood up to Scarface before, I knew I wasn’t brave enough to face him now. No matter how many pep talks I got from Gunny, I’d always be afraid. Why did I think that running away would somehow instantly make me brave? Who did I think I was kidding?

  Gunny was trying awfully hard to communicate with Scarface. He was making a walking motion with his fingers, and repeating heisha. Gunny had been in the Corps for ten years, and he’d picked up some Japanese words. Heisha was the Japanese word for barracks. Gunny was trying to explain to Scarface that we were on our way to the barracks.

  But the guard wasn’t paying attention. He was fixated on me. For a brief moment I wondered if he knew I was supposed to be in the cage. I had gone in unconscious. So it was quite possible that he had helped imprison me. And now he could be wondering how I got out.