The face of the flunky standing beside Tanigawa was much easier to read. In fact, his thoughts were as plain as the headlines of a newspaper. He scowled, his eyebrows knitting together. He didn’t seem to think much of Oatmire or the American Nisei interpreter. Oatmire had picked up on the Japanese flunky’s hostility, and jerking his chin at the man, he asked, “Who is this, anyhow?”
Major Tanigawa seemed taken aback that anyone would care about the man who had accompanied him to this negotiation. He barely gave the flunky more than a passing glance before replying, “Sergeant Inaba.”
Sergeant Inaba’s stare indicated that he would like nothing better than to take out the Americans. At one point the man’s eyes slid to Tanigawa’s samurai sword, as if contemplating grabbing it and using it on the Americans, white flag be damned.
Same to you, buddy, Deke thought, locking eyes with the man. He touched the hilt of his bowie knife, just to send the Jap a message. The sergeant nodded, seeming to recognize an equal, a slight smile coming to his lips as if he would welcome mixing it up with Deke. Both men squinted as they studied each other, as if lining up the other man across a rifle sight. Sometimes no language was needed to express how you really felt — Honcho had sure been right about that. Deke had to remind himself that their current purpose was to avoid any shooting.
Sounding angry and glaring at Yoshio, the major spit out something in Japanese. The harsh, guttural language grated on Deke’s ears.
“What’s he going on about?” Oatmire asked.
“He says that I am a traitor,” Yoshio explained.
“Yeah? Well, to hell with him,” Oatmire said. “Anyhow, we’re here to talk about the hostages, not his damn opinions.”
Oatmire began the negotiations by making a direct appeal.
“Major Tanigawa, what do we need to do to get you to release these prisoners that you are unlawfully holding hostage?” Captain Oatmire asked. Then he turned to the interpreter. “It’s Yoshio, right? Go ahead and ask him, Yoshio.”
Yoshio asked the question. The major replied in Japanese, and Yoshio translated. “He says we can leave the area, for a start. Then he will let the hostages go.”
“Tell him we can’t do that,” Oatmire said. “Tell him he and his men are free to go if they leave the hostages behind.”
Tanigawa replied and Yoshio explained, “He says they would require an escort for safe passage.”
“An escort? Where the hell does he want to go, Tokyo?”
The Japanese major then startled them by speaking up in passable English. It turned out that the enemy officer had been slyly pretending he didn’t know the language. “Not Tokyo, Captain. I only wish to lead my men to join the rest of our troops here in the city.”
Oatmire raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you didn’t speak English,” he grumbled. “If you release the hostages, we could provide an escort.”
“Such an arrangement would be amenable to me.”
Oatmire nodded. “How many hostages are we talking about here?”
“Many have already been released, but several dozen prisoners remain. They will be released also.”
“All right, send them out.” Oatmire seemed a bit perplexed that there wasn’t more to discuss, as if he had come all that way for not a whole lot. “Once you’ve done that, come back out and you can be on your way to join up with whomever you want here — with that escort you asked for.”
“This is satisfactory to me,” Major Tanigawa said.
He offered a curt bow, then turned on his heel with military precision and headed back inside. His sergeant gave Deke one last glare, then followed.
Oatmire stood there, watching the Japanese go.
Deke wasn’t as patient. He was antsy to get his hands back on his rifle. Although they had reached an agreement with the Japanese, it hardly felt like a victory. Everything about what had just happened had left them feeling tense and uneasy. Something about the deal just didn’t sit right with Deke. “Now what, sir?”
“Now we wait. He said that he’s going to release the rest of the hostages.” A thought seemed to come to Oatmire. “You’ve been at this a while, soldier. Do you trust these Japanese?”
“Not as far as I can throw ’em, sir.”
“That makes two of us. I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait here and see what happens. You and Yoshio go back.”
“And do what, sir?”
“Get your rifles, that’s what. If diplomacy fails, there’s going to be some shooting to do.”
Deke and Yoshio did as they were told, heading back to take cover in the rubble. Of course, Deke was glad to get his hands on his rifle again. With any luck, he’d have a chance to shoot that Japanese sergeant with it.
“Are we really gonna let them go?” Deke wondered.
“We do what we promise,” Honcho said.
“Do you think the Japanese would do the same for us if the tables were turned?”
“Maybe not,” Honcho agreed. “But that’s the difference between us and them, isn’t it? Americans mean what we say. You can take us at our word.”
It was hard to argue with that. Even in the midst of a brutal war, whether it was in Europe or the Pacific, the Americans and their allies tried to do the right thing. There was the brutal war fought with bombs and bullets and flamethrowers, but there was also a war for hearts and minds fought by setting an example. So far America and the Allies were winning that war.
Then the lieutenant added an afterthought: “Also, we want the Japanese to release those hostages, so we really don’t have much choice.”
Deke felt better now with his rifle back in his hands. “For a bunch of people who like to think of themselves as samurai warriors, they sure don’t have any trouble hiding behind prisoners, even ones wearing skirts.”
“You’ve got that right,” Honcho agreed.
Several minutes went by, the minutes stretching into an hour. Still, the Japanese had not reappeared. The heat of the sun seemed to amplify exponentially with each passing minute. The scent of smoke, burning debris, and the putrid smell of dead corpses hung heavily in the air. Deke swigged from his canteen to wash away the taste of dust and ash that lingered on his tongue like a sprinkling of the destruction and death that surrounded them. He noticed that Juana had barely moved, her finger on the trigger.
Flies appeared and buzzed annoyingly into their ears and eyes. Everyone tried hard not to think about the fact that these same flies were probably the ones they had seen earlier swarming over the faces of the dead they had passed in the shattered streets. The boy came over and crouched near Deke and Juana, as if he didn’t want to be off by himself. Deke couldn’t blame him.
Finally, the Japanese began to emerge. This in itself was something of a spectacle because they formed into marching order, as neatly as though they were gathered on a parade ground. It was a strange sight, seeing the enemy up close. So close, in fact, that Deke could see their individual features.
He studied them with curiosity because it wasn’t often that he’d seen enemy soldiers this close. They were shorter than the average American by two or three inches, but there was an undeniable physical strength about them, the soldiers being either wiry or squat and powerfully built. Also, these Japanese had been living in comparative comfort compared to the soldiers that Patrol Easy had encountered in the jungles and mountains or damp underground bunkers. Consequently, they appeared relatively strong and healthy, their uniforms clean and even their brown boots polished, contrasting with the lighter-colored laces.