Wings of a Flying Tiger

by Iris Yang

  Danny felt terrible that he had treated this dedicated and kind-hearted man in such an immature way. Opening his mouth, he tried to say something. But he stopped. No matter what he said, it wouldn’t be enough to apologize for his bad behavior. No words would come close to the gratitude he felt and the debt he owed this fellow pilot. Nothing would erase the pain of losing his sister and cousin.

  As he faltered, an idea rushed to his mind, and without a second thought, he blurted out, “Birch, we must swear to be brothers. If you will have me…” At least in this way, Birch’s suffering would be his suffering; Birch’s loss would be his loss. They would be bonded forever as brothers, and they could confront the unbearable pain together. Shared pain would be bearable pain.

  Birch was caught off guard. Being a sworn brother of a Flying Tiger wasn’t anything he’d expected. Danny Hardy was well known. He was one of the most decorated of heroes, Ace-of-Aces. His superb flying skill, unmatched bravery, and sheer determination had won the respect and admiration of the Chinese pilots.

  “I’ve always wanted to have a brother,” replied Birch. His dark eyes brightened with almost childish excitement. At that moment, he felt the presence of his sister and cousin; their spirits were all around them.

  Sworn brotherhood was an ancient Chinese tradition and an honor. Only closest friends could enter into such a kinship and be considered each other’s family member. Highly influenced and romanticized by a classic novel, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, this tight bond was an idealistic dream of many young men, often alluded to as the ultimate fraternal loyalty.

  “How old are you, Birch?”

  “Twenty-eight. I’m a Tiger.”

  Danny laughed. “Which month?”

  “June.”

  “Then I have to call you Big Brother?”

  “If I knew you’d be so concerned”—Birch scratched his head and smiled—“I would have asked Mother to keep me inside a little longer.”

  Danny was thrilled that his Chinese brother had a good sense of humor. “All right, I’ll follow you.” Ever since he’d read the classic novel, he craved to have sworn brothers and longed to have such an ultimate union. Jack and he had in fact performed this ritual when they were kids. But what could be better than carrying out this ceremony with a Chinese brother? He was ready to kneel on the ground as described in the book.

  “Wait!” Birch stopped him. “No need.” He motioned to Danny’s injuries on his leg. “That’s just formality. What’s important is”—he pointed to the left of his chest—“in here. No need to worry about the superficial stuff.”

  “Well said, Big Brother.”

  Side by side the young men sat on a fallen log. Their right hands folded into fists; their left palms wrapped the right fists. Placing their clasped hands a few inches in front of their chests, they squared their shoulders and looked up at the sky.

  “I, Birch Bai, in front of the heavens above—” Birch paused.

  Danny followed: “I, Danny Hardy, in front of the heavens above—”

  Exchanging an understanding glance, both men stated together, “We swear we will be brothers forever. We will share our joys and sorrows. We will go through life together, thick and thin. Though not born on the same day of the same month in the same year, we hope to die on the same day of the same month in the same year.”

  Danny turned and touched Birch’s shoulder with his right hand. “Da Ge!” Warmness swelled around his heart as he said ‘Big Brother’ in Chinese.

  “Hao Xiong Di—Good Brother!” Birch replied.

  Danny grasped Birch’s hands in his. His eyes glowed, luminous with hope and delight. Staring at Birch, he felt a sudden rush of exhilaration. He was happy he had the wisdom to make peace between them and thankful to form such a close bond with another incredible Tiger. It was ironic that just moments ago he couldn’t wait to get away from this man. Now his life was connected to him forever, just like Jack, and Jasmine, and Daisy.

  Birch pulled Danny to a standing position. “I don’t know if it’s possible, but I’m going to request a transfer to your squadron. I’d be honored if I could be your wingman.”

  “The honor will be mine.”

  Side by side, they stood to leave.

  “Wait…” Birch grabbed Danny’s arm as the taller man picked up two sticks. “Now that I’m your Big Brother, you have to listen to me, right?” One corner of his mouth pulled into an impish grin. “Hold on to me.” He pointed to the stick in Danny’s right hand, and then added, “Please…”

  Danny threw the stick away, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Well, we just did it in the Chinese way. May I add something, an American twist, so to speak?”

  “Sure...”

  “It would be an honor to die with you on the same day, believe me. But if you survive, promise me something: don’t be sad. Don’t think about death. Live to the fullest; for you, and for me. You hear me?”

  “Will you do the same?”

  “You bet. Not just for you, but also for Daisy, for Jasmine, and for my friend Jack.”

  Birch nodded.

  “One day, when we all meet again in another world, in another life, I’ll introduce you to Jack.” Pride sparkled in Danny’s eyes. He patted Birch on the back. “You’ll like him. He’s a Tiger.” And in that other life, Birch and Daisy would be his brother and sister, and Jasmine would be the girl he would love with all his heart and soul. Danny was sure of that.

  Chapter 58

  As several months passed a legend was born. An indestructible fighter appeared in China’s skies. The pilot, along with his wingman, repeatedly outfought the more versatile Japanese airplanes and destroyed a record number of enemy aircraft. This legend inspired the Allies and terrorized their enemies.

  Many reports, either in Chinese or American newspapers, praised Danny Hardy as one of the most brilliant fighter pilots in history. He wasn’t invincible though. He’d been injured a number of times. “It was his unmatched spirit that kept him going up again and again,” said one newspaper. The unrivaled determination, combined with his superior fighting skill, made Danny Hardy ‘untouchable,’ proclaimed another paper.

  Chiang Kai-shek, the leader of the Nationalists, stated: “Since the Flying Tigers first spread their wings in the skies above China, the enemy has learned to fear the intrepid spirit they have displayed in face of his superior numbers. They have become the symbol of the invincible strength of the forces now upholding the cause of justice and humanity. The Chinese people will preserve forever the memory of their glorious achievements.”

  When an American reporter asked for a picture, Danny wanted the photo taken with his wingman. Of course the reporter was more than happy to find out about this mysterious Chinese pilot.

  “This is Birch Bai,” Danny made the introduction.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.” The reporter exchanged a handshake with the Chinese airman. “You and Danny have done an incredible job.”

  Birch gave a clipped nod. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

  “It runs in the family,” said Danny. “My brother can certainly fly and fight.”

  “Your…brother?” The reporter was bewildered.

  “Big Brother.”

  The reporter still thought he’d heard it wrong.

  Danny cracked a broader grin. “Birch is the best brother you could ever want.” A lifetime ago, a cute young girl had told him that. And she was absolutely right.

  Side by side, they stood in front of his fighter plane, fierce Tiger Teeth painted on the narrow nose of the craft. Danny wrapped his left arm around his wingman’s shoulders, his right hand on his hip. Assuming a militant stance with feet apart and shoulders braced, Birch placed his left arm on the wing of the airplane.

  They exchanged a thoughtful glance before turning toward the camera. Smiles spread on their youthful faces, but tears glistened in their eyes. Only they were familiar with the posture; only they knew the meaning behind the pose. They remembered the picture Jas
mine had painted on the cave wall. But this time, Danny let Birch take the elder brother’s position while he took Jack’s spot.

  “Excuse me,” said the reporter. “This might be too personal. If you don’t mind…” He looked at Danny’s neck. “Why do you wear two scarves? Isn’t red a little odd for a fighter pilot?”

  “It’s a gift—a gift of life,” replied Danny, his hand touching the scarf. “Once upon a time it saved my life. It had my blood on it…and a girl’s.”

  “Who is the girl? Where is she?” The reporter was intrigued. Any romance of a hero would capture the attention of his readers.

  Danny pointed to the left of his chest. He didn’t bother to elaborate and walked away with his wingman.

  Even with a scar on the left side of his forehead, Danny looked as handsome as he had looked before his injury. His radiant smile had returned, yet somehow he was different. Some people spotted him staring at two red sachets in his hands. A faraway look flitted across his face as he sniffed the scented bags. Tears glittered while he placed a soft kiss on each sachet. Then carefully he stowed them in his breast pocket. Sheer determination took over once he put his hand over his chest, making sure they were tucked away safely, close to his heart.

  No one knew how Danny and Birch had become sworn brothers. Everyone knew the Chinese pilot had gone to pick up the injured Flying Tiger in a remote region in Yunnan. They assumed that was the place they had forged such a tight bond. The brothers never told anyone about the young women’s death, except for Birch’s father.

  Colonel Bai was devastated when he heard the tragic news. Both brothers knelt in front of him while he paced back and forth in their living room. Birch had tried to stop Danny from kneeling, for fear he would hurt his barely healed wounds, but Danny insisted. Bowing showed the ultimate reverence and repentance in China. Although he’d never meant to harm the girls, both young women had died because of him. Bowing was the least he could do for the grieving father.

  Colonel Bai was distraught over his decision to send the girls to Yunnan more than a year ago, yet he circled his arms around the two young men. “Not your fault,” he said with great fortitude. His voice trembled, tears welling in his sad eyes. He looked worn, as if he’d aged ten years in the short time.

  Whom could he blame for the death of his beloved daughter and niece? He couldn’t blame Danny. The Flying Tiger had risked his life, coming from a faraway land to help. He couldn’t blame Birch. He knew how much his son had adored Daisy and Jasmine. Not my fault, either. He had to convince himself. He’d had only good intentions when he sent them away. How could he have predicted the tragic outcome?

  The father pulled the young men up and embraced them again. He was shorter than the young warriors, but no less imposing. “I’m glad you brought back a brother,” he addressed Birch and patted him on the back. Turning to Danny, he squeezed the Flying Tiger’s shoulder. “Welcome, Son. Welcome to our family!”

  Once again, Danny was glad that he and Birch had become sworn brothers. It helped the three men grieve the loss of their loved ones. The holes in their hearts wouldn’t be filled so easily, but hand in hand they could encourage one another, and keep moving onward.

  Epilogue

  The tale of the invincible Flying Tiger spread quickly.

  Yes, it was true that this larger-than-life hero had ferocious Tiger Teeth decorating the front of his aircraft. But then someone mentioned seeing a carmine red scarf tied to one side of the fuselage and two scarlet sachets to the other. Later, people swore they saw two goddesses flying along with the fighter plane. Each one supported a wing, lifting him into the sky, helping him fight, and protecting him from harm. The story became a hauntingly beautiful and enduring legend.

  Real or unreal, people liked to repeat it. This tale soothed their tired spirits, boosted morale, and encouraged more people to join the fight. It was so widely spread that it reached a remote hunting cabin in the mountainous region of Yunnan. A middle-aged couple lived there.

  One day the husband came home with the story. “Everyone in town is talking about this Flying Tiger. A red scarf was tied to one side of his plane and two sachets to the other. People say that he was saved by a couple of young women nearby. Oh, he has a Chinese wingman. The two pilots are sworn brothers.” He kept a close eye on a girl sitting at their homemade table and helping his wife with sewing.

  Four or five months earlier, they’d saved this young woman from beneath a cliff. Their hunting dog had spotted her first and barked nonstop for its masters. She lay naked in the tall grass, and her hands were tied behind her back. Her face and chest were covered with many cuts, and dried blood stained her cheeks and body. She appeared lifeless.

  The couple carried her home and bathed her bruised body. They gently put her on a cot in the corner of their room and fed her medicinal herbs.

  Even after she woke up, the young woman never spoke a word and had trouble walking for several months. She seemed like a ghost, only half a person. She could breathe, she could blink, she could feel, but she had no vigor. Her spirit was gone. One side of her face was smooth while the other side was etched with three long scars.

  The kind couple nursed her. They didn’t care that she couldn’t speak, and they were never put off by her appearance. The couple lived alone in the deep woods. Their only son had gone to fight the war. They had no idea if he was alive or dead.

  Several weeks later they heard about the massacre in the nearby village and about a young woman who had sacrificed everything to protect an American pilot. The couple realized their wounded girl was the heroine. From then on, they treated her with high regard. They never told anyone, though, for fear of her safety and their own.

  After hearing the story of the Flying Tiger, the young woman heaved a sigh of relief. She stopped sewing and looked up. For the first time since her rescue, a smile crept over her face.

  That night, instead of the nightmares, Jasmine dreamed of her brave Flying Tiger.

  Danny is alive! He’s safe. He can still fly! Jasmine had been worried about him but had had no way of getting information.

  She suffered constantly: tightness in her chest and twitching in her cheek, stabbing pains in her head and heart, and a great despair that encompassed her spirit. Haunted by nightmares, she crept through autumn and crawled into winter. At times she felt like she was drowning. She had to keep reciting what Birch had told her: “If you die, you just let the Japs kill one more innocent person without even using their guns or knives. I know it’s hard; it’s very painful. Being alive can be harder than dying. You’ve got to be strong, Jasmine.”

  Now a ripple of excitement coursed through her. How did Danny and Daisy get out of the cave? Where did they go from there? Did Uncle and Birch send someone to pick them up? How did they get in touch with Danny and Daisy, since both Doctor Wang and Shitou had been killed during the massacre? Was it Linzi who had found them?

  All these questions troubled her. But the man she loved was safe!

  Danny has a sworn brother. But who is this wingman? And how did they become brothers? No matter who the Chinese pilot was, she was happy for both. She knew how important Jack had been to Danny. She wished her cousin Birch would be as lucky.

  Once again, life seemed meaningful and hopeful.

  But in the morning she woke with a start. Her stomach hurt as if someone had hit her. In fact, she felt a kick even after fully awake. Oh, God! No! No! No!

  The dreadful reality jerked her upward, her heart fluttering in panic. She’d already suspected that she might be pregnant, but she’d been too afraid to admit it until now. Her period had not resumed after the torture. She assumed that it was because of her poor health. When she felt nauseous, she thought it was caused by grief. Her stomach swelled a bit. She prayed it was a sign of recovery.

  Jasmine gasped audibly and immediately put a hand over her mouth. It was still dark. Through a small window, faint light snuck into the room where her cot was separated from the couple’s by a homema
de curtain. The only decoration nearby was a dried wreath made of forget-me-nots that hung near her bed.

  Whose baby? Sadao, the malicious Japanese officer? The pockmarked face that had stabbed Shitou to death? The one with the German shepherd that tore up Mutou? The one who machine-gunned everyone in the village? She shuddered at the thought.

  What am I going to do?

  She sat on the bed clutching the blanket to her body, waves of nausea washing over her. In the faint light of dawn, she got up and wrote a note on a piece of paper. She knew the couple was illiterate, but they would find someone to read it to them. She thanked them and apologized for leaving without saying goodbye. She didn’t sign her name, though. As far as she was concerned, Jasmine Bai had already died. Japanese soldiers had killed her.

  Grabbing the wreath, she tiptoed out of the cabin and gasped at the sudden assault of freezing air. A light flurry added itself to the carpet of snow on the ground. Jasmine bent her head against the wind and with a slight limp, started the long slog down the mountain.

  For centuries female purity had been upheld as a virtue greater than life. Any woman who could live through such humiliation without committing suicide was an affront to society. Jasmine had already struggled with unbearable shame during the past few months.

  But a baby? An enemy’s baby! She couldn’t allow it to live. She had to find help. Perhaps she could reconnect with her uncle or her cousin. They might be able to help her.

  It was a daring attempt. She’d heard from the couple that Japanese troops were still in town at the bottom of the mountain, which was the reason she would not ask them for help. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to be hurt because of her.

  The wind penetrated every layer of her clothes. The light flurry turned to a heavy snow. She could hardly see what was right in front of her as she staggered down the mountainside. Ankle-deep snow became knee-high. Soon she lost track of the footpath. She dragged her feet, inching forward through the dense forest. She hadn’t ventured more than a few yards from the hut in months, and this strenuous walk left her breathless. Her limp became more pronounced.