“Speak!” Inaba ordered.
“Hello, Major,” the tall man said in a Texas drawl. Although Tanigawa spoke English, he found the man difficult to understand, with all those vowels stretched out. “You remember me, don’t you? Mike MacGregor.”
Tanigawa did indeed remember him, this Texan with the Scottish name. He also remembered his previous complaints, which the major found tiresome. Again, he didn’t want to give the prisoner the satisfaction of knowing he was recognized, so he asked curtly, “What is it?”
MacGregor’s jaw muscles worked as if he was biting back what he really wanted to say. The lack of food had reduced him to bone and sinew, but he was still a strong-looking man. “It’s about the food, Major. You see, we don’t have enough.”
“You have all the food we can spare,” Tanigawa snapped.
Nurse Rooney spoke up. “If you don’t feed us more, people are going to start dying. They’re in very poor health, you see. These are terrible conditions.”
There was that word again. Tanigawa just stared at her until she cleared her throat officiously and looked away.
He wasn’t quite telling the truth regarding the food supplies. Tanigawa had sold at least half the food allotted to the prisoners. He had to pay for his mistress somehow.
Then again, the situation at Santo Tomas had been steadily worsening even before Tanigawa came on as the prison camp administrator.
For the first couple of years, there had been barely enough to eat. In the last months of 1944 and now early in 1945, conditions had gone from barely tolerable to miserable because administration of the internment camp had moved from civilian Japanese authorities to the military.
It was no secret that Japanese officers despised prisoners, whom they saw as having no honor. Tanigawa was no exception. In their view, a good Japanese, even a civilian, would do the honorable thing and kill him- or herself rather than be taken prisoner. In fact, Japanese soldiers who allowed themselves to be captured were reported as killed, mainly for the benefit of their families, so that they did not have to live with dishonor.
By the time MacArthur’s troops landed, the thousands held at Santo Tomas were starving, pure and simple. The Japanese military did not really give a damn, not when they were themselves fighting for survival.
Food rations were cut and given to Japanese troops instead — or sold on the black market, which was exactly what Tanigawa had been doing. Of course, he was sure that his supply officers were already taking their cut before the weekly supply inventory even reached his desk.
Out in the corridor, they heard the muffled cries of a young woman. The prisoner delegation looked over their shoulders in alarm, but the Japanese in the room seemed unperturbed because this sort of incident was now an almost daily occurrence.
Through the door, he saw that some of his men had brought in a Filipino girl. He’d gotten a glimpse of her — young, frightened, her shabby dress torn. Her piteous cries echoed through the halls.
“Aren’t you going to do anything about that?” MacGregor demanded, looking out into the hall. He appeared upset enough to run out and try to put a stop to whatever was happening, but the guards at the door moved closer to block his way. His tall frame seemed to shrink in defeat.
“There is nothing to be done about the food,” Tanigawa said. “Ration it as best as you can.”
“But—”
“Enough!” Sergeant Inaba shouted. “Out!”
MacGregor drew himself up to his full height and glared down at Tanigawa as if he would like nothing better than to tear him apart. However, they both knew he was utterly powerless to do anything. The woman looked just as angry but kept her mouth shut. The third prisoner just looked afraid, wringing his hands.
Inaba shoved MacGregor through the door and the meeting was over.
Echoing through the halls, the girl’s cries continued for twenty minutes while the men had their way with her, some laughing as they urged the others on. They ignored the girl’s sobbing. Finally, there was an angry shout, a gunshot that echoed throughout the building, and the girl’s cries were heard no more.
There was no doubt that the prisoners had overheard the girl’s treatment and her ultimate fate, but Tanigawa thought that it should serve as a warning to them. Their guards’ latest victim had been Filipino. So far the female prisoners had been off limits to the depredations of the guards, but for how much longer as the troops grew more wanton and desperate?
It was something for the prisoners to contemplate. Maybe next time, Tanigawa thought, they would think twice before complaining.
CHAPTER TEN
Tired and exhausted, the snipers reached Manila. Most of the division was not being sent into combat but was training for the invasion of Okinawa. It wasn’t exactly a vacation, but at least they were getting a much-needed break from the front lines.
Deke and the others weren’t so lucky. The fight for Manila was going to involve sniper battles, so Patrol Easy was being sent to do what it did best.
Getting to Manila hadn’t been easy. First, they had endured crossing the San Bernardino Strait to Luzon, half expecting to be torpedoed by a Japanese sub or strafed by a stray Zero. The sea had been choppy, churned by a strong southerly wind. Yoshio and Honcho were the only ones who hadn’t gotten seasick. Deke would always be farm boy first and foremost, so ships never agreed with him. It was a relief to reach dry land again. What followed next was a long truck ride over rough roads to the capital city of the Philippines. The roads closer to the city were paved and had once been decent, but war and neglect had left them in bad shape.
“I wonder what the girls are like in Manila?” Philly said.
“I reckon they’re hiding, if they’re smart,” Deke said.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Philly said with a snort. “If you come across any Filipino girls, you be sure to send them my way. They’ll thank me later.”
Deke didn’t reply but gave Philly a sideways look. It was a sore point with him that he’d never been with a girl. He couldn’t admit as much to Philly, of course. He never would have heard the end of it. After all, Deke had proved himself to be the tough guy, the hard man, the crack shot, the one who got things done when push came to shove. But it was Philly who’d had all the women, even if you only believed about half of his bragging.
Just about every young soldier had done his level best to lose his virginity before going off to war and possibly getting killed. Even the religious ones sometimes made an exception under the circumstances. Most young men felt that it would have been a shame to die and never know what it felt like to make love. The memory of the event itself would get many a soldier through a dark and lonely night. The topic of conversation among most soldiers alternated between home, good food, sports, and women — they longed for all of them.
Deke felt embarrassed about his lack of experience and wondered if there was something wrong with him. He supposed that his scarred face scared off the girls. Meanwhile, he held on to his secret like it was a gold nugget.
A distant thump of artillery interrupted Deke’s thoughts, reminding him that he had bigger problems to worry about.
In the light of the setting sun, they had their first glimpse of the sprawling city. The rich hues of the tropical sun made the white walls of the city sparkle, although the sight was marred here and there by rising columns of smoke. What Manila lacked in height — most buildings outside the city center were only a few stories tall — it made up for in breadth.
Because Deke was a country boy and his experience of cities was limited, Manila seemed to him like a very large city. He wasn’t wrong — the prewar population made it bigger than Richmond but smaller than Rochester. At the heart of Manila was the historic walled city known as Intramuros, which dated back to the earliest days of Spanish colonization. Now the whole place was going to be a battleground.