Behind the Lines

by W. E. B Griffin

  “Yes, Sir, they will,” Everly agreed. “The only thing to do is test them.”

  “We don’t have enough ammo,” Captain Platten argued.

  “We give them a two-shot test. A head-size target, a pineapple, at one hundred yards. If they can hit a pineapple at a hundred yards, they can hit a Jap in the chest at twenty.”

  “Who will ... take out ... the driver of the staff car?” General Fertig asked.

  “I will,” Everly said.

  “I always got my three bucks,” Captain Platten said. “I’ll take out the driver of the pickup. That way he won’t be able to turn around and run.”

  “Excuse me?” General Fertig asked. “What was that you said, ‘three bucks’?”

  “My Expert Rifleman’s pay, Sir,” Captain Platten said.

  “We seem to be getting ahead of the primary question,” General Fertig said. “Which is, should USFIP attack the Bislig-Caraga convoy?”

  “I don’t think we have any choice, Sir—” Captain Hedges began.

  “Excuse me, Captain,” Fertig interrupted him. “I believe the hoary tradition is that when the commanding officer solicits opinions, the junior of his officers respond first. That way, the juniors are not influenced by the opinions of their superiors.”

  “Excuse me, Sir,” the Chief of Staff of USFIP said.

  “Lieutenant Everly?”

  “Yes, Sir. The sooner the better.”

  “Captain Platten?”

  “Yes, Sir. Like Everly says.”

  “Captain Buchanan?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Captain Weston?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Captain Hedges?”

  “Yes, Sir. I don’t think we have any choice, General. We need the rice and whatever else is edible. We need both gas and kerosene. And the Jap weapons. And it will let the Japs know we’re here!”

  “Yeah,” Everly said, with an intensity that surprised Weston.

  Then Weston had a second thought: Well, now I know where I stand in the pecking order. Ahead of Buchanan and behind Hedges.

  There seemed to be immediate confirmation of this.

  “In that case, gentlemen,” Fertig said. “We will attack the convoy at our earliest opportunity. Captain Weston will lead the attack.”

  “I’d like to lead it, Sir,” Captain Hedges said.

  “You’re too valuable around here, Hedges,” Fertig said.

  “With respect, Sir,” Captain Platten said. “I’ve got more experience in infantry. Nothing personal, Weston.”

  “I’ll tell you this once, Platten,” Fertig said. “I considered that, among other factors, before I made my decision. Never again question my orders.”

  Platten’s face tightened, but after a moment he said, “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  As finally formed, the attack party consisted of the detail

  commander (Captain Weston) armed with a Thompson .45

  caliber submachine gun; three officers (Captain Platten, and

  Lieutenants Everly and Alvarez) armed with Springfield

  1903 .30-06 rifles; and nine enlisted men (two American)

  armed with Enfield Model 1917 .30-06 rifles.

  They were accompanied by a twenty-five-man labor detail under Lieutenant Jose Lomero, late of the 17th Philippine Scouts. Lieutenant Lomero was armed with a .45 ACP Model 1911A1 pistol and an Enfield rifle. Two of his sergeants were armed with the Enfield. The balance of his detail was either unarmed or armed only with machetes. They carried with them the only shovel available to USFIP, and a motley collection of canteens, water bottles, and other vessels, including two small wooden barrels.

  The attack party left Headquarters, USFIP, at first light Monday 19 October with the labor detail sandwiched between the armed men. After an eight-hour march through the mountainous jungle, a bivouac was established at what was estimated to be a mile from the ambush site.

  A detail under Captain Weston, consisting of Lieutenant Everly, four armed members of the party, and three members of the labor detail, then proceeded to the attack site. Captain Platten remained at the bivouac site to supervise the construction of crude lean-tos and to establish a perimeter guard.

  One hundred yards from the highway, the labor detail dug four holes, each large enough for a fifty-five-gallon drum. They next made arrangements to conceal their location by distributing the removed earth over a wide area and selecting foliage that would be placed over the holes once the barrels were placed in them.

  Meanwhile, Lieutenant Everly selected both the precise location for the ambush and, insofar as possible, the positions on both sides of the highway from which the convoy would be brought under fire.

  The reconnaissance party then returned to the bivouac area, leaving behind two unarmed members of the labor detail, who were wearing native clothing. Should there be any Japanese activity during the night, it was their mission to return to the bivouac area to warn the others.

  They were not armed, because it was hoped that if they fell into Japanese hands, they could successfully argue that they were simple Filipino farmers, and because Lieutenant Everly suggested to Captain Weston that not arming the men would remove the temptation to attack the Japanese on their own.

  At first light Tuesday 20 October, the bivouac was deestablished, with considerable care given to remove all signs of its overnight occupancy. The entire attack party then resumed the march toward the highway.

  By 0645, contact was established with the two men who had been left behind. They reported no activity during the hours of darkness except the intrusion of three small wild pigs, which had been decapitated with a machete and then skinned and gutted.

  In total, in Captain Weston’s judgment, the pig carci weighed approximately sixty pounds. One of the men who had remained behind overnight was charged with carrying the rations to Headquarters, USFIP, together with a Situation Update for General Fertig.

  The labor detail remained approximately two hundred yards from the highway, while the attack party moved into position under the direction of Lieutenant Everly.

  At Lieutenant Everly’s suggestion, Captain Weston took up a position on the seaward side of the road, near Lieutenant Everly. Captain Platten took up a position approximately one hundred yards away. The balance of the attacking force was placed on both sides of the road, and Lieutenant Everly cautioned each member of the party to remain concealed and not to open fire until they heard the sound of his rifle. They were then to remain aware of the location of USFIP personnel on the other side of the road, so there would be no casualties from USFIP fire. This emplacement was accomplished by 0655 hours.

  At approximately 0702, they heard the sound of a truck grinding gears.

  Captain Weston at this point retracted the operating rod of his Thompson .45 ACP Caliber submachine gun, took a final look down the road, and then dropped out of sight. Six or eight feet away, he could see Lieutenant Everly, almost entirely concealed by the trunk of a tree and some foliage. He was sitting with his legs crossed under him, leaning forward so that his left elbow touched his knee. All it would take to be in a Parris Island—perfect “Sitting Position for Riflemen” would be for him to put the butt of his Springfield in the small of his shoulder and lower his face to the stock.

  A moment later, he did just this; and as Weston heard the sound of vehicles approaching, he saw the muzzle of Everly’s Springfield tracking their movement.

  And then, without warning, Everly fired. There was a flash of orange at the muzzle, and the sharp—surprisingly loud and frightening—sound of the weapon firing.

  The noise was immediately followed by the sound of other weapons firing. Weston got to his feet as quickly as possible. The lead vehicle of the convoy was a four-door Buick convertible, top down, with spare tires mounted in front fender wells. He was surprised to see how close it was to him, and that it was apparently headed directly toward him, as if trying to run him over.

  After what seemed like a very long time, the Buick
stopped, as its front wheels rolled off the road and further forward movement was impeded. Weston then became aware of the occupants of the vehicle. The driver was now lying against the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound. One of the rear-seat passengers was trying to raise himself off the floor; and the other—an officer—was simultaneously trying to stand up and unholster his pistol.

  Everly’s rifle fired again. As Weston heard the crack of the weapon firing, he thought he could also hear the whistle of its bullet passing close to him.

  Weston raised the submachine gun to his shoulder, got a sight picture, and pulled the trigger, immediately releasing it. He felt the three-round burst recoil against his shoulder. The face of the Japanese officer in the Buick seemed to implode. He sat back and then slid off the seat. The second man in the back of the car suddenly jumped out of the car and started running to the trucks behind him.

  Weston raised his Thompson to his shoulder and aimed it. As he was preparing to apply gentle pressure to the trigger, Everly’s Springfield fired again, the running man’s head seemed to explode, and he fell forward onto his face. His legs and arms twitched.

  Weston looked back at Everly, who was now on his feet, pulling the loop of the sling off his arm. He looked at Weston and made an impatient gesture for Weston to return his attention to the road, or,

  My God, he wants me to go out there! If I go out there, they’ll be able to see me, and shoot me, and I’ll be killed!

  Oh, shit!

  Captain Weston moved out of the foliage, holding the Thompson with one hand. He supported himself on the fender of the Buick and then made what he thought, for a brief moment, was a constructive act. He pulled the body of the driver away from the steering wheel. The blaring of the horn stopped.

  There, now they won’t be able to hear us!

  Jesus Christ! How fucking stupid can I be?

  He looked into the rear seat of the Buick. The officer was on the floor, on his back. His eyes were a bloody mess.

  I shot him right between the eyes.

  I was aiming for his chest.

  He moved slowly to the rear of the Buick, then ran to the truck next in line behind it. As he ran, he realized that the intensity of the firing had slowed. And then it stopped entirely.

  There was the sound of moaning, and somewhere down the road a man was screaming, and then there was a shot and the screaming stopped.

  “Cease fire! Cease fire!” Everly called. Weston turned to see him running up the road. He ran past Weston to the rear of the truck next in line. All of a sudden, he had a machete in his hand, and Weston saw it slash viciously downward.

  My God, he’s killing the wounded!

  And you’re acting like a Boy Scout, not like a Marine officer!

  What did you expect, that this would be conducted in a gentlemanly fashion, with scrupulous attention to the Geneva Convention?

  He made his way through the convoy to the pickup truck at its rear, desperately hoping he would not come across a wounded Japanese and have to kill him.

  He did not. Taking their cue from Everly, the Filipinos quickly put their machetes to use, taking care of the problem of the wounded Japanese.

  Weston saw a Filipino climb one of the fragile-looking telephone poles lining the road, slash the copper wire with his machete, and then, holding a loose end between his teeth, climb down again.

  On the ground, he tugged unsuccessfully to pull the wire from the next pole, cutting his hand in the process, and then shouted angrily in a strange tongue—Tagalog? Weston wondered—which caused two other Filipinos to start climbing poles.

  Weston started walking toward the head of the convoy again. Now the Filipinos were stripping the Japanese bodies of their weapons, their boots, their ammunition, their bayonets, their leather accoutrements, and their watches, jewelry, and even their spectacles.

  The labor detail appeared, and Lieutenant Lomero began to load each man with the supplies and captured weaponry to be carried off. There were more supplies than men, and the attempt to carry off the fuel proved to be a disaster. There was no way to decant the gasoline and kerosene from the drums into the vessels they had brought with them except by putting the drums on their sides and opening the filler hole. More fuel poured onto the ground than into the bottles and barrels and canteens. And the wooden barrels leaked.

  Weston returned to the Buick, leaned into the backseat, and finally found the pistol he had seen in the officer’s hand.

  It looks something like a German Luger, he thought, as he picked it up, then dropped it in horror. It’s covered with blood!

  He forced himself to pick it up again, then to unfasten the officer’s belt, which was also slippery with blood. A spare magazine was in a pouch on the holster. He was tempted to throw the belt and the holster away, but decided he was obliged to take it with him. When he tried to strap it around his waist, it was too small, so he looped it around his neck.

  He became aware then that the Buick’s engine was still running. He reached over and turned the ignition key off and then removed it.

  Everly came up to him.

  “Anytime you’re ready, Mr. Weston.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Torch the vehicles and go home,” Everly said, and nodded toward the rear of the convoy. Two Filipinos were easily carrying one of the now nearly empty fifty-five-gallon gasoline drums. They stopped at the car, obviously waiting for Everly’s permission to upend the drum into the car.

  “You search him?” Everly asked.

  “I got his pistol.”

  “I noticed,” Everly said, and then spoke in Spanish to the Filipinos.

  They got in the car, picked up the Japanese officer’s body, and slid it over the side of the car. It landed on its face. Everly carefully went through the officer’s pockets, coming up with a wallet, some identification papers, and a pocket-knife, which he tossed to one of the Filipinos. Then he removed the officer’s wristwatch.

  “An Elgin,” he said, tossing it to the other Filipino. “Do you suppose he bought it in Chicago, or took it away from some American?”

  He waited until the Filipino, who was smiling happily, had strapped the Elgin onto his wrist, and then signaled for them to upend the gas drum into the Buick. As the dregs of the drum gurgled onto the red leather upholstery, he took out his Zippo lighter.

  “Wait a minute!” he said. “Jesus Christ, how stupid can I be?”

  “What?” Weston asked.

  Everly shouted something in Spanish and then repeated it in English.

  “Get the people with the bottles and canteens back here,” he said, and one of the Filipinos said, “Yes, Sir,” and ran down the road. Everly turned to Weston. “These fuel tanks are full. All we have to do is cut the fuel lines, and let it run into the bottles.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Weston asked rhetorically.

  “Why didn’t I?” Everly said.

  The translation of that, Weston thought, is, I didn’t expect you to, you’re nothing but a useless flyboy I’m stuck with, but I, the professional Marine, certainly should have.

  It took perhaps ten minutes—which seemed to Weston far longer than that—to fill the bottles and canteens from the fuel lines of the Buick and the trucks.

  Finally, Everly called, “OK. Torch them!”

  He stooped beside a small but growing pool of gasoline spreading from under the Buick.

  “You better step back, Mr. Weston,” he said.

  “Right,” Weston said, and took several steps away.

  Everly ignited the gasoline and then ran away, grabbing Weston’s arm and dragging him into the jungle.

  There was a whooshing sound. When Weston looked back, the entire rear half of the Buick was engulfed in flames.

  “Sometimes it explodes worse than that,” Everly said.

  “I suppose,” Weston said, somewhat lamely.

  “That was a nice head shot you made, Mr. Weston,” Everly said. “Right between the eyes. But next time, it mig
ht be better if you aimed for the chest.”

  I am not going to give this sonofabitch the satisfaction of correcting me.

  “I knew I could hit him in the head from that distance.”

  “Yeah, and you did,” Everly said, with a touch of what could have been reluctant admiration in his voice. “But it’s sometimes better, Mr. Weston, not to take chances.”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, Everly.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” Lieutenant Everly said.

  They headed into the jungle. They had gone perhaps fifty yards when Everly had the last word: There was an enormous roar as the fuel tank of one of the trucks exploded.

  VII

  [ONE]

  Office of the Kempeitai Commander for Mindanao

  Cagayan de Oro, Misamis-Oriental Province

  Mindanao, Commonwealth of the Philippines

  1425 Hours 20 October 1942

  All but two of the seven officers of the Mindanao Detachment of the Kempeitai were gathered in the office of Lieutenant Colonel Tange Kisho to discuss the outrage on the Bislig-Caraga highway that morning. Present were Tange; Major Ieyasu Matsudaira, his deputy; Captains Matsuo Saikaku and Tokugawa Sadanobu; and Lieutenant Ichikawa Izumo. Lieutenants Okuni Sannjuro and Iemitsu Tokugawa were at the scene of the outrage supervising a ten-man detail searching the area.

  Lieutenant Hideyori Niigata, the signals officer, had been summoned in case he might be needed. He was waiting outside Tange’s office, sitting on a wooden bench once used by citizens of the Commonwealth of the Philippines seeking audience with the Provincial Governor.

  It went without saying that the outrage had to be dealt with immediately and with the greatest severity. The question was how, and with what degree of severity.

  Major Ieyasu Matsudaira believed the action to be taken was self-evident. One senior Japanese officer, Major Shimabara Hara, and nineteen other ranks, had been murdered. Therefore, five Filipino males from the surrounding area should be hung in retribution for Major Shimabara’s murder—a five-to-one ratio—and thirty-eight Filipinos—a two-to-one ratio—hung in retribution for the other deaths. The arrests should be made today, Major Ieyasu argued, the arrestees interrogated overnight, and the executions carried out first thing in the morning.