All he thought the Japs would do about the POWs’ command situation in the camp was to smack the guys involved around a few times, maybe put them in solitary for a while, and everything would get back to business as usual. Hell, everything had been fine so far. His “duty” outside the compound was now considered normal by his fellow prisoners, who actually awaited his returns with eagerness. Along with the others who worked outside the barbed wire, he had become a font of information regarding the outside world and even “smuggled” in excess food. His buddies in no way begrudged him the fact that he ate his fill from Jap leftovers and brought only what he could hide and carry. What the hell was he to do-they’d all laughed-push a handcart or wheelbarrow full of Jap goodies in each day? Only Jake knew that Colonel Omori made Charley take the food. It made him more valuable and trusted by his fellow prisoners.
All this was now threatened, even destroyed, by the punishment Omori was inflicting on the four American prisoners, which Finch was forced to watch. He was behind a screen and the POWs were blindfolded, but he had the nagging, crawling feeling they knew he was there.
Goto was clad in only a loincloth, and his short, muscular body glistened with sweat and the prisoners’ blood. He had worked the men over with his pliers as they hung from the rafters by ropes tied under their armpits. All their fingers and toes had been smashed, as had their noses and teeth. Now Goto was finishing the job by battering each man’s chest and back with a baseball bat. As another blow landed, a soldier groaned and Charley heard the nauseating sound of a rib snapping.
Goto laughed and pounded the kidney area of another man. Blood had begun to ooze from their bowels. At least they were through screaming. The first few hours had been terrible with their howls of agony.
Goto shifted and began a series of savage uppercuts with the bat on the prisoners’ testicles. He had done this earlier, and their balls were swollen like purple grapefruits that looked like they would burst.
“Enough,” Omori said, and his lieutenant looked disappointed. “Cut them down and have the other prisoners retrieve them.”
Charley was surprised. Earlier, Omori had said he would have them executed. The colonel looked fatigued. Charley had picked up enough Japanese to overhear that the colonel had spent the night drinking and fucking some white woman. Lucky bastard. It also looked like the colonel had been using drugs, and Charley found that intriguing.
The soldiers whispered that Goto had been dipping his wick in some local pussy all night as well.
“Don’t worry, Sergeant Finch,” Omori said, “they will die. Only it will be in full view of their comrades and over a great period of agonizing time as the prisoner medics try to save them. Since they don’t have the resources to do any such thing, their efforts will simply prolong the men’s death agonies.”
Charley shuddered. Jesus, what a sadistic bastard.
“You have kept your bargain,” Omori said. “And I will keep mine. We have captured two FBI agents and now have the two men who commanded the prisoners. You will not return to the camp. You will be reported as killed for insolence. Instead, you will be installed in a cottage just off the base and out of sight of the other prisoners. You will be fed and have liquor and the services of one of the Korean whores.”
Charley thought he’d been promised a white woman like the one Omori was screwing, but he didn’t press it. “Thank you, sir.”
“When the time comes, I will have other duties for you.”
Charley was again surprised. He had thought this was a one-shot deal. Of course, he realized ruefully, he’d also thought the four men would be relatively unharmed.
“There are Americans loose on several islands,” Omori continued, “and I believe you would be perfect in flushing them out.”
“What will you do with them, sir?”
Omori glared at him angrily. The question was impertinent. “They are outlaws, Sergeant; what do you think we do with outlaws?”
Charley Finch bowed deeply in apology. “I understand fully, Colonel Omori.” And he did understand. If a few more died so he could stay alive and well, that was just tough shit. It would be years at the earliest before the United States returned, and Charley Finch had best look out for Charley Finch. He knew it would be difficult to explain his prosperous survival when so many others were dead and dying, but that was something he would resolve when the time came. Maybe he would move to Japan? Hell, after he’d helped them, the Japs would welcome him with open arms, wouldn’t they?
CHAPTER 14
It was time to do something constructive, Jake thought, long past time. He and his men had spent more than enough days hiding and organizing, and now they had to show the people of the big island of Hawaii that there was an American presence nearby, and that it was capable of hurting the Japanese.
This wasn’t something he’d decided on lightly. His mission was to stay hidden and await orders. However, he had to live in the area, and that required the assistance of the handful of people on the farms and in the villages outside Hilo. Many of them were wavering in their support of America, and others felt that the Japanese were invincible and would stay forever, making it necessary to reach an accommodation with their new masters.
Jake believed it was time to change a few minds. Fortunately, the Japanese proved very cooperative in the matter.
Those farmers and villagers in the area who were not of Japanese or Hawaiian extraction were often subject to brutal treatment by wandering patrols of occupying soldiers, who, without anyone to stop them, had become more and more adventuresome. In particular, the Chinese were often treated terribly. It was Jake’s opinion that the soldiers were out plundering on their own while their commander in Hilo drank himself into a daily stupor.
As the Americans were on the move from one campsite to another, a terrified child told them that the Japs were at a farm owned by a Chinese family just a couple of miles down the road. Jake took with him only his regular soldiers and two of his marines. The remaining handful of add-ons and sailors were ordered to stay in place. Most didn’t have the experience needed for this. Jake wondered if he had it either, but he kept that disquieting thought to himself.
The Japs were still at the farm when they arrived and appeared totally unaware of impending danger. Hawkins counted eight of them, and several were lurching around drunk. All had rifles, although several rifles were leaning against the neat white frame house. An army truck was parked by the farmhouse, but it didn’t look like anyone was in it. A barn, again white and neat, was behind and to the left of the farmhouse. The buildings were surrounded by acres of fields, in which wheat and vegetables grew several feet tall. Part of the area had been turned into a rice paddy. The whole place exuded prosperity and the results of hard work.
“If we do this right, sir, this could be a turkey shoot,” Sergeant Hawkins said.
Jake nodded. “Then let’s make sure we do it right. Jesus, what’s that?”
Jake focused his binoculars on the slightly open door to the barn, past which it was difficult to see. A naked woman stood against it. Her arms were spread wide, and her hands had been nailed to the door. Her head was slumped on her chest, and she had been disemboweled. A sausagelike strand of entrails hung down her belly. Other cuts and slashes were visible on her body, and another body lay in the barn. It appeared to be an adult man.
Jake had sent two men to reconnoiter the other side of the farm. They reported that there were no other Japs in the area and no sign of any other civilians either.
“They killed them all,” Hawkins said and spat on the ground.
Jake took one group of men and Hawkins the other. The idea was to get at the Japs with converging fire from two angles to hit them before they had a chance to react. No one would fire until Jake did and until they reached their assigned positions, about a hundred yards from the farmhouse.