Wings of a Flying Tiger

by Iris Yang

  The herbalist rushed toward the door then turned back to face the trio. “I’ve already sent Linzi back down the mountain. It may take him a little while now that Anning is occupied by the Japanese. But relax; he’ll find a way to inform Colonel Bai and Birch. I’m sure they’ll send someone to pick you up soon.”

  At least that was what the herbalist hoped. Colonel Bai had trusted him to provide safety for the young women. Now he wasn’t certain he could carry out such a task.

  Danny’s eyes widened when Doctor Wang and Shitou returned with the bamboo-pole sedan chair.

  “Let’s go.” The herbalist signaled the wounded pilot to get in.

  “No, I can’t let you…” Danny waved his arms, shaking his head. “I can handle it.” He bounced on one leg. Turning to Shitou, he said, “Find a couple of sticks for me, will you?”

  “No, you can’t.” Doctor Wang grabbed the American’s arm. “Look, it’s going to get dark in a few hours. If you insist on hopping like this, we won’t get there until midnight or later.”

  “But—” Looking at the teenager and the older man, Danny was embarrassed. An unfamiliar sense of helplessness washed over him. He was a man, a tough fighter. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn’t imagine being carried. He’d felt awful when he had learned that two teenagers had walked hours to transport him to the village. At least, unconscious, he hadn’t seen it happen. Damn! He cursed his broken leg.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve done this before,” Shitou said with a smile. “You’re heavy, but I’m strong.” He winked at Danny while puffing up his chest.

  “And I’m stronger than the boy,” said Doctor Wang, jutting out his chin.

  It was a simple statement of fact. The herbalist wasn’t bragging. He’d been living in this area all his life, collecting herbs in the mountains to make a living. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes he was gone for days with his son or grandsons. Returning home, they all carried heavy loads. Short and wiry, the sixty-year-old could still handle significant weight.

  “We can pitch in,” Jasmine said as she moved one step closer to the sedan chair. She’d changed into a plain cotton shirt and slacks. Two bags hung over her shoulder and crossed her chest. She held more bags in her hands.

  “No.” Doctor Wang dismissed her with a shake of his head. “You girls need to carry all the supplies.”

  “Why don’t we ask Mutou?” Daisy suggested. “He did a good job last time. I don’t have any candy left, but I promise I’ll give him some later.” She put her bags on the floor and turned quickly. “I’ll go find him.”

  “Wait!” Doctor Wang called after her. “Don’t ask him. Mutou can’t tell right from wrong. Not his fault. But we can’t afford to take chances. The fewer who know where we’re going, the better.” He waved an impatient hand. “Now, come along. We can’t waste time.”

  Chapter 36

  “Stop,” called Doctor Wang, after walking several hours up the main path of the mountain. He and Shitou set down the sedan chair.

  The afternoon was comfortable with warm sunshine and a light breeze. Shitou wore nothing but gray cotton trousers and a conical straw hat. The toffee-brown rag around his neck stuck on his bronzed chest. He was bathed in sweat. A smile hovered at the corners of his mouth as he mopped his face with the cloth.

  “Sorry, Son,” the herbalist said, sucking in his breath. “We can’t use the chair anymore.” He pointed to the woods. Only a discreet footpath cut through the forest.

  Danny nodded in appreciation as he stepped down from the chair.

  “What about the chair?” asked Jasmine.

  “We’ll come back soon to take it to the village,” answered Doctor Wang.

  Danny headed toward the trail with quick hops. The rich smell of the earth greeted him. The path was narrow. He grabbed the tree trunks on either side to steady himself and sidestepped rocks and roots on the ground. The sun had already gone down behind the mountains, and without direct sunlight, the forest was dark.

  Doctor Wang walked in front of the group, calling out warnings from time to time.

  Danny panted.

  After walking a couple of hundred yards they reached a small opening in the woods.

  Danny rubbed his face and squinted to drive the sweat from his eyes. A steep cliff lay in front of them.

  “The cave is up there,” said the herbalist. He sounded more concerned than excited.

  The bluff was about one hundred feet high and very steep. A natural rock staircase led straight up. The steps were irregular: some short, others over two to three feet high.

  “You’ll need to get down on all fours to climb up,” said Jasmine in a shaky voice. “But how can Danny—?”

  “There’s no way for him to climb up,” agreed Daisy.

  Shitou leaned his head back, his eyes glued to the upper staircase.

  “I’ll carry him,” said Doctor Wang, a tinge of steel in his voice. Before Danny could comment, he stepped in front of him and bent his body forward. His small frame was dwarfed by the American’s six-feet three inches.

  Danny was mortified by the old man’s suggestion. Being transported on the sedan chair was awkward, but being carried by a sixty-year-old man up a steep cliff was unthinkable. He retreated a few steps and limped around the herbalist toward the cliff. Jasmine and Shitou each grabbed an elbow to steady him and pull him back, but he shrugged them off.

  Standing straight, Danny raised his right arm. His left arm, like his left leg, was still too injured to be useful. His fingers groped the cracks on the rocky step in search of a good grip. Taking a deep breath and using the strength of both his right leg and arm, he jumped and landed on the first footstep.

  The second step was much harder. The foothold was higher and narrower. It was impossible to jump and land precisely on the small surface.

  “Be careful!” called Daisy.

  “Stop it, Danny! Come down, please,” Jasmine begged.

  But Danny wouldn’t give up. Again he reached up with his uninjured arm. The rock above him was smooth, and he couldn’t find a good handhold. Clutching whatever he felt was best, he jumped. This time he wasn’t successful. As everyone gasped, he slipped down.

  Luckily, the herbalist and Shitou were prepared. They stood beneath him with outstretched arms and caught him when he fell. Blood seeped through his white sleeve where he’d scraped his right elbow.

  “Are you okay?” Daisy asked.

  “Danny, listen to Doctor Wang. Please!” Jasmine pleaded, gripping his hand.

  The herbalist put his hand on the American’s shoulder. “Son, don’t feel bad. You’re one of the two bravest young men I’ve ever met.” He turned to Daisy. “Birch is the other one.”

  The young girl beamed with pride for her brother.

  Doctor Wang’s eyes were calm, and his expression was that of a man who had seen the worst of life and still had faith. “You’re severely wounded. You almost died fighting the Japs. You’ve done things none of us could ever do…”

  Jasmine, Daisy, and Shitou nodded quickly.

  The herbalist continued, “Now, it’s time for us to take care of you. It’s our job to look after you. I don’t know how much we can do, but we’ll try our best.” He squeezed Danny’s shoulder. “You’re a Flying Tiger with injured wings. Take good care of those wings. Once they’re healed, you can soar into the sky. Fight for all of us. We know you will. We believe in you!” His wrinkled face shone with steadfast strength. “Let us take care of you now. Don’t let the Japs or the sickness defeat you when you’re down.”

  A lump lodged in the back of Danny’s throat. The only thing he could do was make a promise: I’m going to get well. I will fly again and fight for all of them. I promise! I swear! He pressed his nails into his palm and set his jaw in grim determination.

  Chapter 37

  “Jack!” cried Danny, waking from a bad dream. It was the morning after they’d reached the small cave. His eyes were closed, but his expression was pure panic. His hands waved in the air,
seemingly trying to grab something or someone. A sheen of perspiration clung to his forehead.

  The news of the Japanese coming had brought his frustration and fright to the surface.

  He had no weapon. No aircraft. Even if he had his P-40, he was in no shape to fight. How could he protect anyone? He was afraid to lose these people to whom he’d grown close, just as he’d lost Jack. He was a Flying Tiger, but he had injured wings. How could he fly without healthy wings?

  “Danny, wake up!” Jasmine sat cross-legged on the rocky ground. Her fingers rubbed his cheek, trying to pull him out of whatever disturbed him. “It’s just a nightmare.”

  Disoriented, Danny blinked a few times, struggling to open his eyes. Once he caught a glimpse of Jasmine, he relaxed.

  Jasmine gazed at him with concern.

  Danny rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. A faint smile flitted across his face. Wearing a forest green silk blouse and a matching long skirt, Jasmine was a vision of beauty.

  “Before you get up,” she lightly touched his cheek again, “let me use the needles.”

  This ancient method of treatment was based on the idea that illnesses were caused by a disruption of energy that flowed naturally through the body. Using the needles at identifiable points helped to restore the disrupted flow and bring back health. For thousands of years, this technique had been used to treat many diseases.

  Jasmine felt lightheaded when her hands grazed his bare skin. Her heart thumped so hard that she thought it would burst. Time and again, she wondered if he could hear her heartbeats, and she scolded herself for being so foolish, so obvious.

  Danny didn’t mind the pressure from the needles, and her sweet “jasmine” scent made him feel dizzy. Her soft touch sent fresh energy throughout his body. That was why he was a little disappointed when he heard the girls’ conversation.

  “I thought you had the bag.” Daisy sounded tearful. She whipped her head around. All kinds of food, personal belongings, and pots and pans surrounded them. But there was no sign of the medicine bag.

  “No, I told you—” Jasmine stopped. No use to blame anyone at this point. The upsetting truth was that in haste, they’d left the bag behind in his room. Now they had no needles or herbs for his malaria, or the Magic White Powder or the gauzes for his wounds.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Daisy anxiously.

  “Relax,” Danny assured them. “I’m fine. No need to worry.”

  But he wasn’t fine. Everyone knew it. Malaria was hard to cure even with advanced medicine. It clung tenaciously, sometimes forever. He still had a low fever. His wounds still needed treatment. He was lucky that Doctor Wang had given him the homemade Magic White Powder that had saved his leg. Nonetheless, he wasn’t healed.

  “The old way,” said Jasmine. “We’ll use forget-me-nots and sweet wormwoods. At least we can cook now—” She didn’t finish. The thought of her feeding him mouth to mouth made her blush.

  “My turn to pick the herbs,” said Daisy, oblivious to the sparks between the other two. Taking a switchblade out of her pants pocket, she made ready to leave.

  Something about the knife seemed familiar to Danny. “May I see your knife?” he said to Daisy as he held out his hand.

  Daisy handed the switchblade to him. “It was a gift. My brother gave it to me. He gave one to Jasmine, too. But she didn’t take it. She hates—”

  “Hates knives?”

  “After what happened to her parents, she hates anything sharp,” Daisy answered before Jasmine could say anything.

  “But…but the knife, the needles—”

  “She’ll do anything for you,” said Daisy, looking remarkably innocent. “Did you know she practiced the needles on herself before treating you? She was afraid of hurting you, so she hurt herself as she learned the techniques.”

  Danny lifted his head.

  Daisy continued, “You told us courage is doing something when you’re scared half to death. Jasmine was courageous when she rescued you. I wish...”

  Jasmine’s cheeks flamed.

  “This is the knife that she used to cut off your clothes.”

  Danny was wearing his own clothes: a pair of beige trousers and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his forearms. His brown flight jacket was folded and served as a pillow, the long white scarf by its side. Doctor Wang’s daughter-in-law had done a good job mending his torn clothes. Patches of similar cloth now stitched the tears and shreds.

  “My brother likes knife-throwing,” Daisy blabbered. “He can hit any target. Maybe twenty or thirty yards—he’s great!” She lifted her chin slightly.

  Daisy always felt proud whenever she mentioned her big brother, and it dawned on Danny that his sister probably had similar feelings when she talked about him. “I’m pretty good at knife-throwing, too.” He twisted the knife in his hand. “Your brother and I seem to have a lot in common. I’d love to meet him one day. He sounds like a great brother and a fun friend.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to meet you. He’s the best brother one could ever have!”

  “Daisy is right. Birch saved my life,” Jasmine said. “I call him Ge—Big Brother, just like Daisy. We grew up together.”

  “Jasmine is lucky. She had five more years with my brother than I did.” Daisy laughed.

  “You’re not jealous, are you?” Danny teased the younger cousin.

  “Jealous? Of course not; I know he loves us both.”

  Danny nodded. One corner of his lips pulled up into a playful grin. “So, if we were to have a contest,” he said, “knife-throwing, I mean, who do you think would win? Your brother or me?”

  Daisy parted her lips to speak, but said nothing. After a moment of serious consideration, she answered, “Both of you will win!”

  Chapter 38

  The cave was the size of the room that Danny had occupied in the village. The steep, natural staircase led to the outcropping above the tree tops. Underneath it, a green coverlet spread across the hill, sloping down the mountainside. A hazy blue lake lay in the distance. Over the valley, another massive mountain range loomed on the horizon.

  To the right of the cave, a narrow ledge extended around the corner of the rock face, winding and twisting up the mountain. After a couple of miles, the herbalist had told them, the trail would converge with the main path, leading to a gorge, Dead Man’s Pass. From there, one could navigate down the mountain. The only other way out of the area was to go through the village.

  How in the world did he find this place? Danny wondered.

  Years ago, the herbalist had injured his leg during an outing with his son. It was late, so they couldn’t go back to the village that night. As they made their way through the woods, they stumbled upon this shelter. Since then, they’d used it whenever they had to stay a few days in the area. Over the years, they’d made their “gathering hut” very homey—a fire pit, stored wood, and a layer of dry straw on the ground for a more comfortable sleep. Not far along on the ledge, water from a spring trickled from the rock.

  The sun was rising, its upper edge peeking between the clouds and the distant horizon, splashing the hills in a rich golden-yellow hue. Sitting upon this natural balcony, Danny was awestruck by the spectacular vista. “Jack would have loved this,” he exclaimed. The words just popped out of his mouth. He wished his friend were there. They’d always enjoyed being outdoors together. A nostalgic look came over his face.

  Danny missed Jack tremendously. The fact that he couldn’t save his best friend had made him relive the critical moment again and again. He’d spent sleepless nights and long days in recuperation, trying to figure out what he could have done to save him.

  “You know…” Jasmine spoke softly as she caught his soulful eyes. She was wearing a garland of forget-me-nots. Danny had asked Daisy to pick extra flowers and made two wreaths, one for each girl, to cheer them up. “…Jack was luck. He had a great friend like you. He’d be happy knowing that you think about him. You still love him. What m
ore can a person ask? I’d be thrilled if…someone remembered me like that.”

  Danny held up his hand. “You’ll always be remembered,” he assured her. Turning to face Daisy, he said, “You too, sweet girl.”

  “Tell me what Jack looked like, Danny.” Jasmine picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire pit and stood up. “So that I can preserve this friend for you, for us, for whoever happens to be here in the future.” In the past two days, she’d already drawn several large images on the smooth rock wall.

  In one picture, Danny sat inside an airplane, Tiger Teeth painted on the nose of his aircraft. The canopy was open. He was wearing a flight jacket, a long scarf coiled around his neck and flapping behind him in the wind.

  In another portrait, a life-sized Danny was standing on the ground next to his plane. His left arm rested on the wing. Shoulders back, head held high, he revealed every bit of his strength and confidence. A devilishly charming smile spread across his face.

  The next panel showed a fight scene in the air. The planes were too small to detect a pilot. The tiger teeth painted aircraft zoomed down, sending tracers tearing through the sky. In the line of fire, a plane with a Japanese Rising Sun spiraled down, leaving a characteristic puff of smoke.

  At the bottom right corner, two young women sat on the ground, their knees bent, legs tucked under them. Each held a garland on her head and leaned back staring at the sky. Their faces lit up with pure joy. In the background, tall mountains rose into peaks resembling “the Hump.”

  Flying Tigers had flown many times over “the Hump” to transport military supplies from India to China. Danny had told many heroic stories of flying this treacherous stretch of the Himalayan Range. The stories had left such a strong impression that Jasmine had had to incorporate “the Hump” into her drawing.