by Iris Yang
She glanced down at the front yard. With heads lowered and shoulders sagging, the terror-stricken villagers stood docile. They—mostly old men, women, and children—had no means to help the girl. Four bloody bodies lay in front of them. Armed soldiers surrounded them. The Japanese kept one eye on the crowd and one eye on the girl, waiting impatiently to take their turn at her. Keep floating upward. Leave this tormented place…
Over the tree line, she flew into the big sky. Before long an aircraft with Tiger Teeth painted on its nose came into view. “Danny!” she exclaimed when she caught a glimpse of the handsome face. She flew alongside the fighter plane.
Jasmine lifted her right hand and laid it upon the window, hoping he would see her.
He didn’t.
She pounded the window.
He couldn’t hear her.
Nothing separated them except the thin layer of glass, yet she had no way of reaching him. She felt cold. The wind blew fiercely, pushing her away. She struggled to remain beside the aircraft.
Puffy clouds rushed toward them, swallowing the airplane. She whirled round, frantically searching for the aircraft. Instead, she spotted people hundreds of feet below. She glided toward them and found a girl and the pilot. Resting on their elbows, they were half-lying in a meadow carpeted with blue forget-me-nots. Brilliant smiles spread across their youthful faces.
The pilot wove forget-me-nots into a garland, placing it onto the young woman’s head. She had long shiny hair that hung all the way to her waist and a carmine red scarf around her neck. In the next moment, her short hair bounced off her shoulders, and the scarf changed color to pink.
Jasmine was happy for them. She yearned to be with them.
Then everything changed. Dark clouds rolled in, blocking the warm sunlight. A group of monstrous Japanese appeared from nowhere and overwhelmed the couple. They tied the pilot to a tree and tore his flight jacket to shreds. The man in charge whipped his Samurai sword across the American’s face and chest.
Jasmine lunged forward. With open arms, she placed herself in front of the pilot. The blade cut through her invisible body. The piercing pain took away her breath. Yet she wasn’t able to block the sword. It slashed his flesh, leaving bloody marks. No matter how she tried to stop the blade, it continued to torture the man she loved. His torment unhinged her. She screamed, kicked, and punched the attacker with unseen arms and legs.
Then, again, as fast as they’d come, the soldiers vanished, leaving the severely injured American behind. Where was the girl? Was she dragged away by the Japanese? Jasmine didn’t know. She had no time to find out.
The pilot lay lifeless on the ground, his chest covered with bloody cuts. His white scarf was stained with bright red dots. Jasmine hovered above him. She longed to touch him, to gather him in her arms, to heal him. But what could a ghost do?
Leaning down, she placed soft kisses on his forehead. On his cheeks. Then on his lips.
“Danny, Danny, Danny!” Over and over again she whispered his name, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “Don’t leave me!”
Jasmine jerked awake. It was drizzling. Drops of rain fell on her face. She was still tied to the tree. One of the soldiers had just finished his turn.
“Danny? That’s the name of the pilot, isn’t it?” With his left hand clutching her leg, Sadao lifted her chin with his right index finger and thumb, forcing her to look at him. “I told you that you would tell me, sooner or later, one way or another. But for now”—he raised his hand, stopping the next man in line—“we have to go.” It was getting late, and the rain might make their return too treacherous.
“Don’t feel bad.” Seeing the disappointment on his subordinate’s face, Sadao offered, “You’ll be the first one in line once we’re back to the camp.”
The jug-eared soldier curled the corners of his lips upward when he heard his superior’s promise.
Jasmine blanched. She’d hoped they would kill her. The pain and humiliation was worse than death. But they wouldn’t let her die. She was valuable. She was usable. She hadn’t given up the information they needed.
Two soldiers took her down from the tree, and she slumped to the muddy ground stained with blood and body fluids. While she was on wet earth, they bound her arms behind her back. Sadao gave his order, and half a dozen Japanese went into the crowd and dragged several young women out. People fought for their loved ones, but the Japanese bayoneted whoever resisted.
The nightmare hadn’t stopped there. Before they left, Sadao lifted a flattened hand to his throat and made a slashing gesture to the man with the machine gun. With a nod, the soldier opened fire, sending his tracers into the crowd. The startled and terrified villagers fell, one after another.
A few villagers ran away. But the soldiers caught up with them, thrusting bayonets into their bodies. Except for Jasmine and the other three girls, no one was left alive. Everyone—man, woman, child—was killed in a matter of minutes. The enchanted yard became a slaughter-house, and the timeless serenity of this faraway village was forever lost.
Chapter 54
Jasmine watched the whole thing from the muddy ground. A wail traveled up her throat, yet no sound came out. Her throat was so hoarse from all her screams that she couldn’t make any noise. Only the shrieks from the other girls echoed in her ears. Rivers of gut-wrenching tears poured down her twisted face.
When they left the village, she was half-dragged and half-carried by two soldiers. Blood, tears, sweat, along with raindrops, dripped from her cheeks, painting a horrifying picture on her bare chest. The pain was beyond words.
As soon as she gained a little strength, Jasmine tried to shake off the hands on her arms. Their dirty fingernails dug too deep into her flesh. The men sneered but didn’t bother to fight her. They exchanged an amused glance and released her. Where could a naked, battered woman go when she was surrounded by two dozen Japanese soldiers?
The mountainous terrain was rugged and slippery. She dragged her feet, using all the strength left within her. Cold mountain wind and rain lashed down, numbing her body and mind. I can’t let them do this to me. I can’t stand it anymore!
But it wasn’t up to her. She knew they would hurt her again. They needed the information only she knew. The American pilot was important to them. They wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.
The prospect of going through torture and gang-rape again dragged her over the edge and into an abyss. What can I do? How can I escape? She didn’t even have the means to kill herself. They wouldn’t give her the opportunity to end her own life.
Jasmine pondered the questions as she trudged. Sadao was right about one thing: the likelihood of torture was as frightening as the torture itself.
No matter how much she did not want to admit it, she feared she might succumb. She’d already told them Danny’s name. The information itself wasn’t significant, but the implication was. What will I say next? An involuntary tremor rippled through her body.
No one could stand such cruelty and abuse. She was too weak to endure more pain. She would never forgive herself if she harmed Danny, even if she wasn’t in a rational frame of mind. It’s only a matter of time before they drive me insane.
Halfway to the Japanese camp, they passed a ridge. The rocky path was so narrow that they had to walk in single file. It was raining hard. Mist hovered over the mountainside, reducing visibility. Everyone kept their eyes on the muddy path. One slip might send a person tumbling down the steep slope.
Suddenly, the answer flashed before her. Without missing a beat, before anyone comprehended, Jasmine leaped toward the cliff. The interpreter grabbed her from behind. Using every last bit of strength and determination left within her, she kicked. As he ducked, she jerked away. He leaned forward. His fingers skimmed her wet arm, unable to hold her back.
In a breath, the young woman disappeared into the canopy of dark trees below. She had fulfilled what she’d said long ago: she wouldn’t hesitate to give her life for the man she loved.<
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Chapter 55
No mercy was shown at the camp. The Japanese tied the girls to trees then took turns raping them. Throughout the night, the soldiers were hooting, cheering, and drinking sake while they had their fun. All of them recalled the young woman they’d had early in the day. Her exceptional beauty was hard to forget.
Sadao missed the young woman most. From the moment he’d seen her, he’d wanted her to himself for the entire night, or if he was lucky, for many nights while they were in this out-of-the-way town.
The air smelled of alcohol and smoke. Sitting by the campfire, Sadao took a large gulp of sake from the bottle. He regretted cutting her cheek. Her gorgeous face would have been more pleasing to look at. In the heat of the moment, he was furious with her. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for the American enraged him. He understood then how much this Flying Tiger meant to her. The pilot was her life; he was larger than her life.
Sadao scrubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. He was jealous of this American fighter whom he’d never met. A Japanese soldier’s life wasn’t important to anyone. They were trained as machines to kill, to die for their emperor. That was part of the reason they treated their enemies so cruelly. If his life was insignificant, his enemy’s life certainly was nothing to him. He wished his life meant something to someone. If only I had a girl like that!
He tipped the bottle to his lips, swallowing the burning sensation. Information about the pilot was crucial to him. He’d been ordered to bring the American back alive, and not to return until he’d found him. A Flying Tiger was invaluable to them.
He was close, but now he had to start again from scratch. Jasmine’s resistance had hampered his task. What would his superiors say or do if he came away empty-handed? Sadao hated her guts. The setback was a bruise to his ego. It symbolized his sense of failure as a man and as an army officer.
His frustration flared to anger. He slammed the bottle of sake into the fire and with the back of his hand wiped the liquid from the corner of his mouth. He stood and walked toward his captives. His left hand grabbed a girl by her throat, and his right hand slapped her face. The girl made a goggling sound. Her eyes rolled back under the lids. Again and again, he hit her until her nose bled and her cheeks were swollen. One by one, he ravaged the girls with the cruelest form of violence. Spine-chilling wails from the tormented young women mingled with the soldiers’ animal-like moans and groans, turning the camp into a living hell.
In the middle of the night, after all the soldiers had had enough, they offered one of the girls to the interpreter. Shaken and remorseful, the interpreter pretended to take her to the toilet but instead set her free. When he came back twenty minutes later without her, the soldiers kicked and punched him. They’d planned to keep the girls for more fun.
The girl had snuck out of the camp. With no clothes, she had nowhere to go but to return to the village. In the faint light she ran, stumbling and falling. By the time she reached her home, in addition to her split lips, broken nose, and bruised cheeks, her bare body was covered with mud and countless bloody cuts. She’d barely had time to put her clothes on when Birch Bai showed up in the village. With incoherent sentences, she managed to tell him the story.
Chapter 56
Tears rushed down Danny’s face as he listened to the story. Now he understood why Birch said he’d had no choice when he threw the hand grenades toward his sister. The alternative was even worse than death.
He stared at the red scarf in his hand. A tidal wave of nostalgia washed over him. Once upon a time, Jasmine had used it to wrap his head with mashed forget-me-nots, saving his life. That was six weeks ago, but it seemed a lifetime away. In fact, it was a life away—the woman he loved had died a horrible death, and an unbridgeable space separated them forever.
The reality of her death hit home. Although he’d suspected it, he had doubts and harbored hopes. Now the thought that he would never see the graceful young lady again tore his heart apart.
Danny couldn’t help but wish he’d told her how much he loved her. Jasmine would never feel the warmth of his hug again. She wouldn’t taste the sweetness of his kisses. She would never know the pleasure of being a woman loved dearly by a man.
I should’ve gone down with my P-40. I shouldn’t have bailed out. If I’d died, then the girls might still be alive! The exotic village would be as peaceful as it had been for thousands of years. The villagers would not have had trouble giving up a dead body, would they? The young women loved him; the boys worshiped him; the whole village had welcomed him with open arms. He was there to fight for them, to protect them. For God’s sake, look what I brought them!
The war had taken a toll on him. He’d had enough. He’d seen too much blood and too much suffering. Before coming to China, he’d known there would be pain and loss. The agony of losing his best friend was unbearable. But he’d known the odds. They were soldiers.
Still, nothing had prepared him to face the death of so many innocent people. He hadn’t expected to see an adorable girl being blown into pieces before his eyes. And never for a moment had he imagined that the graceful woman he fell in love with at first sight would die such an unmerciful death.
Danny was ready to go home to the peaceful life that he’d once lived in California. Many pilots had left when the American Volunteer Group broke up, their contract officially over. He’d come voluntarily, and he and Jack were among a handful of the Flying Tigers who had chosen to stay, to keep fighting. Now he longed to go home. No war. No killing. No pain of losing the ones he loved. No guilt or shame for not being able to protect them.
Then, as he envisioned his younger life, he painfully realized that he no longer had Jack. The war had taken his childhood friend from him. Its ugly claws had grabbed the beautiful woman he loved, the sweet girl he cared for, and the innocent villagers he’d befriended. Even if he walked away, his heart would be left in this remote part of China where Jasmine, Daisy, Shitou, Doctor Wang, and all the villagers once lived, and where they, along with Jack, would forever rest.
The fearless and high-spirited fighter pilot was beside himself with grief and despair. He sat transfixed. Those ugly claws that had taken his friends’ lives were now squeezing the life out of him. An empty stare came to his brown eyes.
He dropped his elbows to his knees and covered his face with his hands. “Why?” he mumbled, trancelike. “Why didn’t she just tell them? Why didn’t they give me up? I wouldn’t have blamed her. I wouldn’t have blamed any of them. Let the Japs catch me. I’d rather die!”
He was a fighter. It was his job to face death. But not her! She wasn’t a soldier. She was an innocent young woman.
“She would never give you up,” Birch said. “She loved you. You know that, don’t you?”
Danny nodded. Of course I know! As shy as she was, her love for him had been obvious.
“None of us would give you up. You fight the Japs. You risk your life for us.”
“I’m a pilot. I get paid to do the job. No need to give up her life for mine—”
“Perhaps there are some things that are more important than our own lives…”
“Like what? Hell! What do I have?”
“You have wings. Don’t forget you’re a Flying Tiger!”
In a flash Danny recalled the conversation he’d had with Doctor Wang before being carried up the steep rock staircase. “You’re a Flying Tiger with injured wings,” the herbalist had said. “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!”
The late doctor’s and Birch’s simple, yet powerful words seemed to revive Danny. He was embarrassed for the momentary weakness he’d experienced. He was ashamed that he’d almost forgotten his promise—he was going to get well, to fly in the sky, to fight for them all!
In a single blinding moment, he knew what he was going to do next. He understood why he’d been saved time and again by people who had risked their own lives. There was
no true peace in the world. Not until their enemies were defeated. Not until this awful war ended. He was more than a professional fighter. He was a Flying Tiger, a Tiger with great strength. He was a Fei Hu!
Now that his wings were about to heal, he must go back to fight, to fly once again into the sky just like the herbalist had wished. He wouldn’t let Doctor Wang down. I won’t let Jasmine and Daisy down. I won’t let any of my friends down.
Now the war was personal—he would fight for his family, his loved ones, and for his friends now gone in sacrifice.
Chapter 57
Danny wrapped the red scarf around his neck. The long white scarf that Jasmine had given him was already there. In the warm sunlight, his grief and helplessness were replaced by fortitude.
He turned his gaze to Birch, who looked at him with kindness and concern. They were sitting by the river bank. Murky water flew tirelessly downstream, taking mud and twigs along with it as it disappeared around a big bend in the distance. Not long ago, Birch had carried him over the challenging river. In spite of the cool breeze, a sheen of perspiration clung to the Chinese man’s face. This was the second time that Birch had helped him across treacherous terrain.
Danny felt gratitude as he stared at the young man who had lost both his sister and cousin over the past few days. Birch’s forehead now bulged with black and blue bruises. His face was covered with abrasions. Dark blood splattered the front of his blue shirt and stained a large area under his left elbow. The Chinese had gone through hell to rescue him, to help him no matter how rudely he’d treated him. Not once had Birch blamed the American for his losses. Behind his bruised features, Danny discerned unimaginable suffering, along with unbendable courage.