Wings of a Flying Tiger

by Iris Yang

  “Now, will anyone tell me where he is?” continued Sadao. He was genial as if he were talking to friends. His gentleness lay in stark contrast to his men who were surrounding the villagers with rifles. A machine gun was trained on the crowd. A huge German shepherd glared at the captives.

  Behind the herbalist and Shitou, Jasmine couldn’t see the Japanese clearly, but his nonthreatening voice and politeness startled her. She was bewildered. She’d seen firsthand how cruel Japanese soldiers had been in Nanking. Was he different? Nevertheless, she remained perfectly still with her head low, unwilling to draw attention.

  “Don’t worry,” the officer went on, “we won’t hurt him. He’s a warrior. We’re all warriors. It’s just business. No need to be afraid. Not for him. Not for yourselves.” He signaled the moon-faced interpreter.

  Dressed in a black V-neck tunic over loose-fitting trousers, the interpreter opened a cloth bag he was carrying.

  “Now, just to show we’ve come in peace and mean no harm to anyone”—the officer stuck his hand into the bag and brought out a handful of candies—“these are for the kids.”

  The residents relaxed. Some of the children still buried their faces in their parents’ protective arms, but a few looked at the candies with shining eyes and wet mouths.

  “Here…” Sadao stepped closer to the crowd. Bending down, he handed candies to the children. Some brave youngsters came up from the back to get the treats. In a few seconds, the mood had changed. Kids peeled the wrappers and licked the candies, sweet smiles spreading over their innocent faces.

  “May…I?” Mutou ogled the bag of colorful candies.

  “Of course,” said Sadao. Before handing them to Mutou, he asked, “Do you know the American pilot?” The handful of sweets dangled in front of the retarded young man. “Do you?” the man in charge pressed, keeping the candies as bait.

  Ignoring Doctor Wang’s cautionary voice in the background, the simpleminded teenager bobbed his head.

  “Where is he?” The hand with the treat inched closer to the boy.

  Mutou ran his tongue over his buckteeth and lips again. He pointed his finger at a house on higher ground.

  With a wave of his arm, Sadao sent several soldiers to search. He snickered at the childlike young man as he dropped a few candies in Mutou’s hands.

  Minutes later, the soldiers came back with the parachute.

  Doctor Wang’s jaw dropped. After he’d transferred the pilot and the young women to the cave, he’d instructed Shitou to burn the chute. How could it still be here? He turned to his grandson and caught the boy’s contrite look.

  Shitou was in awe of the Flying Tiger. He admired Danny too much to destroy the things he’d used, so he’d hidden the parachute under a pile of firewood, thinking it would be safe. How could he know that his innocent action might bring disaster?

  “Where is he?” the man in charge asked again.

  Mutou gave an indifferent shrug and wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Who takes care of him?” More candies dangled before Mutou’s face.

  “Mutou, stop talking!” barked Doctor Wang.

  The young man hesitated a few seconds. He licked his thin lips, shiny with saliva, while his ravenous eyes stayed glued to the lure in front of him.

  “Relax,” said Sadao with an easy smile. “We just want to find him. To give him some candies, you know. Now, tell me who takes care of him?” The treats got closer to the young man’s face.

  Mutou turned, pointing his fingers behind the herbalist and his grandson.

  The officer threw the candies toward Mutou and took a few large strides. Shoving the old man and the boy aside, he pulled Jasmine out from hiding. With one hand clasping her arm, he lifted her downturned face with the other. A startled expression flashed in his eyes. Even in plain peasant clothes, her beauty stunned him. For a moment, he just stared at her, forgetting where he was and what he was supposed to do.

  Chapter 51

  Jasmine had listened nervously to the conversation. Mutou can’t tell right from wrong. He’s going to give me away. She stood hugging her arms around herself.

  Dragged from hiding, her skin rippled with goose bumps and her heart skipped a beat when Sadao lifted her chin. She summoned all her strength to force a calm expression that belied the trembling inside her.

  “What is your name?”

  “Jasmine.”

  The officer grinned. “You are not a farm girl, are you? A student?”

  “I was…” She shot him a bitter look. She wanted to say she couldn’t be a student anymore because of him and his fellow soldiers. That she was now motherless and fatherless because of him and his fellow soldiers. But she thought better of it and decided not to provoke him.

  “What did you study?”

  “Art. Oil painting.”

  “Painting? That’s great. I took an art class in college. Landscape painting is my favorite.” He swept his hand left to right, encompassing the lush mountains around them. Except for the gloomy sky, the scenery was breathtaking. “Isn’t this a perfect place? Perhaps you could show me your paintings later. I’d love to see them.”

  Jasmine remained quiet. She had an odd feeling. If it weren’t for all the guns surrounding them, she might have thought that they were friends carrying on an interesting conversation.

  After a moment of weighty silence, he stopped beating around the bush. “For now, will you please tell me the whereabouts of the American pilot…?”

  Jasmine shook her head.

  “Come on. It’s okay. Tell me. We won’t hurt him.”

  Like you didn’t hurt Lu Ping and the hundreds of thousands of disarmed soldiers in Nanking. The image of Lu Ping’s blood-covered body lying on the church floor flashed through her mind, but she said nothing.

  “You know where he is…I can tell. Be a good girl.”

  His voice was still calm, yet with an undertone of cold brutality. His demand gave her the shivers, still Jasmine didn’t say anything.

  In a rising voice, Sadao repeated his question several times. His nose flared. His gentleness disappeared, replaced by a malicious expression. His hands tightened on her arms, and he shook her violently. “Where is he?”

  “Let go of me!” cried Jasmine, struggling to pull away from his tenacious grasp.

  “Tell me. Now!” he shouted. “This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. If you don’t tell me, you’ll be very sorry.” His narrow eyes burned with a cruel glare. “You’ll tell me, sooner or later, one way or another. I assure you.”

  The Japanese interpreter added his own warning. “He’s not kidding. He’ll hurt you. Just say the words. Don’t wait. He has a reputation of being…very persuasive.”

  “She’s just a girl,” Doctor Wang said as he took a step forward. He’d been trying to intercede, but he’d been pushed back by a soldier with a bayonet pointed at him. “She doesn’t know anything. Let her go!”

  A rifle butt hit the herbalist in his gut.

  Shitou yelled, and he, too, was held back by a gun.

  Jasmine began to shake. All the horrifying stories she’d heard in Nanking leaped into her mind. She wanted to run. She wished she could hide. But she was going nowhere, her arms in the grip of iron claws.

  Sadao gazed at the terrified young woman one more time, trying to decide if he would carry out his threat. It didn’t take long. With a wave of his arm, he summoned two soldiers. They planted themselves on each side of her. Upon seeing their superior’s nod, they began to strip her.

  A gasp erupted from the crowd. Shouts, cries, and screams filled the air. People surged forward, trying to interfere.

  Bang!

  Sadao took out his pistol and fired once into the air. “If anyone passes this line”—he drew an imaginary line in front of the crowd with his gun—“he’ll be killed. No questions asked. Understand?”

  Jasmine kicked, punched, and cried as the chaos broke out. But she had no chance of escaping from the two s
trong men. Soon all her clothes were gone. Caught by a draft, her red scarf flew up and tangled on a nearby branch.

  The two soldiers dragged her to the tree that was strung with white flowers. They bound her hands behind her back and used extra ropes around her ankles. Sadao walked toward her with measured steps. “It’s not too late.” He brushed her long dark hair off her chest, exposing her bare body. “Tell me where the American is and I’ll let you go,” he said as if he meant it.

  “Let her go! She doesn’t know anything,” bellowed Doctor Wang, iron in his voice. “I’m the one who takes care of the pilot. I’m the one you’re looking for.”

  The officer ignored the herbalist. Interrogating a naked woman was much more enjoyable. He might question the old man later, but he doubted it would be necessary. “How long do you think she can last?” he asked the interpreter without taking his eyes off her. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a sadistic half-smile.

  Jasmine waged a futile struggle against her bonds.

  “You’re a beautiful girl. I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to. But you’re not giving me a choice,” he said, taking out his Samurai sword.

  She paled. Her eyes were filled with terror when he pointed his blade at her chest.

  “You like painting, right?” he said. “If you don’t start talking, I will paint a picture on your chest.”

  The tip of the sword pressed on top of her left breast. Jasmine closed her eyes, too afraid to look. Her hands clutched together tightly in her bonds.

  Sadao paused for effect. He knew the power of threat. He wasn’t in a hurry. Blood oozed out of the cut, dripping down her smooth chest. “Tell me!” he barked, with daggers in his eyes and the sword in his hand.

  No sound came from her except the chattering of her teeth.

  His nostrils flared. “All right, you asked for it!” He took a step back, and with a swift motion, he swept the Samurai sword down around her breast, slashing her flesh.

  Jasmine screamed. A shudder racked her body, and tears gushed out of her closed eyes.

  The crowd gasped. The villagers groaned and shouted in anger. Women lowered their heads, unable to look. Parents clutched their children and held them close, hoping to shield them from the sights and sounds. Doctor Wang and Shitou pushed and shoved the soldiers, but they couldn’t break through.

  “Where is he?” the Japanese officer repeated, his voice shrill with frustration.

  A sudden gust of wind fluttered her dark hair around her ashen cheeks. She let out a horrified gasp as the tip of the sword poked at her breast again. No! No, God, please! Blood pulsed in the injured flesh, sending fiery sensations throughout her body. She didn’t think she could stand another cut.

  But the blade went down again, ripping her flesh.

  Jasmine shrieked as the sword went up and down her naked body. Her face contorted in agony.

  Sadao was serious when he’d said he was going to paint a picture on her chest. Soon a bloody image appeared with wiggly lines carved on her upper body. The cuts were controlled and skillful: deep enough to draw blood and create piercing sensation, but not deep enough to kill her. He asked the same question each time before sending down the blade.

  Jasmine wailed at the top of her lungs, as if her cries would stop the pain. What was the alternative? The only way to stop her suffering was to tell them where Danny was hiding. But she couldn’t let these monsters torture him, or kill him.

  Don’t give him up! Never tell them where Danny is! Never! Never! Never!

  Again and again, as the sword pierced her flesh, she swore to herself that she would not back away from this impossible promise.

  Chapter 52

  The tip of the blade went up to Jasmine’s left cheek. Her eyes flew open, undeniable fear glazing her eyes. “No, please…don’t…” For the first time she begged him, her speech slurred by pain and terror. Her dark hair was plastered upon her face with sweat and tears, accentuating her pallor.

  The moon-faced interpreter took pity on her. He fired a rapid exchange with the man in charge. Then he turned to Jasmine. “For heaven’s sake, tell him where the pilot is,” he urged. “They are soldiers. It’s war. It’s their job to fight. Not yours.” He was in civilian clothes, dressed like a Chinese. “You’re a young woman. Why are you doing this? No need to go through this for anyone. Don’t be a hero. It’s not worth it.”

  Jasmine just looked at the man with the sword pointed at her cheek. Through numb lips, she pleaded in Japanese, “Dear God, no more. Please!”

  “I’m glad you can speak our supreme language, but there is no need to beg me,” Sadao stated with a shrug. His thin lips curled in a venomous sneer. “You have the power. You’re the one holding the key. Just say the word.”

  This was the hardest part. She wasn’t entirely powerless; she could end the torture by telling them where the American was hiding.

  But she couldn’t let Danny go through the hell that she was going through. It was his blood or her blood; she chose her own blood. It was her suffering or his suffering; she chose her own suffering. Not for a moment would she consider the alternative. It was her life or his life; she chose to give her life so he might live.

  “You’ve really tried my patience,” Sadao barked. “How on earth can a girl like you be so stubborn? Tell me where he’s hiding. Now!”

  Jasmine closed her eyes, knowing her plea had fallen on deaf ears.

  The blade went down, ripping her flesh. This time, instead of slashing her once and questioning her in between the cuts, he did it several times in a row, leaving three long crimson lines on her left cheek.

  Darkness whirled at the edge of her vision. Jasmine fainted.

  Sadao slapped her right cheek, demanding her back to consciousness.

  “Stop!” Doctor Wang roared in anguish. He’d had enough. He’d been beaten by the soldier for trying to push through the line. This time, he punched the Japanese in the face. As the man with a bloody nose staggered backward, the herbalist shoved beyond him. It was suicide, yet he had no choice. He couldn’t stand to watch the young woman under his care tortured anymore. He’d rather die while trying to save her.

  With bare arms, Doctor Wang flung himself at Sadao.

  The man in charge twirled around. Without batting an eye, he lifted his sword and thrust it into the herbalist’s chest. Before anyone could blink or cry, he yanked the blade out.

  Blood surged from Doctor Wang’s chest, staining his oyster-colored shirt. His hands flew toward the wound, mouth gaping as if in the middle of a scream. Stumbling backward several steps, he fell onto the ground with a thud. His head lolled to one side, then went limp. His eyes remained open in utmost anger.

  “Grandpa!” Shitou hit the nearby soldier with his fists and pushed him away. He rushed toward the old man. As he leaned down, he was attacked from behind. A soldier with a pockmarked face thrust his bayonet into the boy’s back multiple times. Shitou collapsed on top of his grandpa. The young man with a ready smile stilled, blood oozing out of the stab wounds on his back.

  “Grandpa! Shitou!” Little Fatty, the three-year-old boy, wobbled forward. His innocent voice was laced with fear.

  “Come back!” people in the crowd shouted, warning the youngster. Several tried to grab him.

  It was too late. Before the toddler reached his family, the soldier picked him up.

  “No!”

  The Japanese raised the child high above his head. Then, with a heartbreaking motion, he threw the toddler to the ground. The cry from the crowd was so loud that no one knew if the youngster had made a sound. His head was smashed on the hard surface. His Tiger-head shoes were not able to protect him.

  Mutou broke into a frantic run. He didn’t go far. With a wave of his arm, Sadao sent the German shepherd after him. In no time the dog tackled the teenager to the ground. Kicking and punching, he waged a fruitless struggle. The trained dog bit his stomach, ripped open his belly, and jerked out his intestines. Mutou’s hair-raising screams mi
ngled with the animal’s satisfied growl, handfuls of candies scattered round him.

  Chapter 53

  Jasmine had regained consciousness and watched in pure terror. “Murderer! Animal!” she shrilled. She felt as if her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces.

  “Animal?” Sadao understood the word he’d been called. “You haven’t seen anything yet, you stupid girl.” His voice was pure ice, devoid of emotion. He waved his arm.

  Two soldiers untied the rope from Jasmine’s ankles, raised her bottom, and parted her legs. The man in charge lowered his pants.

  “No! No! No!” Jasmine kicked and wiggled. But the two strong soldiers held her thighs and legs in their iron grip. With hands tied behind her back, she was pinned to the tree. Only her head was free to sway violently from side to side.

  “Please, help me!” She turned to the interpreter who seemed to have a hard time watching. Blood, tears, and sweat dribbled on her cheek and bare chest. Her features dissolved into a mask of pure terror.

  The interpreter averted direct eye contact with her. An empty detachment appeared on his flat face. He was powerless.

  Once again, Sadao wasn’t in a hurry. He stood between her legs, his penis erect. He gripped her bottom; his fingertips dug deep into her flesh. “One last time, where is the pilot?” Spittle flew from his mouth.

  For a few seconds, Jasmine stared at him with a loathing and hatred that she’d never felt before. “Go to hell!” she spat and screwed her eyes shut.

  He thrust deeply into her body. With frustration, fury, and lust, Sadao pounded her, relishing her cry, her shudder, and her fruitless struggle. When he was done, he grabbed her thigh, switching positions with one of the two men holding her leg. The soldier was inside her in no time.

  One after another, the Japanese raped the young woman.

  Each breath became difficult to take. Jasmine lost track of time. She left her battered body and floated upward. Looking down, she saw a naked girl tied to a tree, two men holding her legs apart for another man to rape her. Jasmine had no power to save her. She was a ghost.