As they formed up, the hobnailed soles of their boots grated in an unsettling manner on the flat paving stones that remained in the courtyard. Enemy footsteps. How many times had they heard that scrape of steel on rock in the dark and knew all too well what was coming next? What stood out most of all were the impassive faces of the enemy, all of them with eyes staring straight ahead, as if the Americans were nothing to them at all — or perhaps were not even there. The only other sound aside from the hobnailed boots came in the form of a few harsh, gruff orders. The well-disciplined soldiers obeyed instantly.
There were also a lot of soldiers, at least a hundred men, vastly outnumbering Patrol Easy and the handful of infantry guarding the campus.
Philly gave a low whistle. “Now that I see them up close, I’m glad we didn’t have to fight them.”
“There were a lot more Nips than we figured,” Deke agreed.
“We’ve got them right where we want them,” Philly said. “We ought to just say to hell with it and shoot them all right now. Mow them down. It’s now or later, right?”
“Shut up, Philly,” the lieutenant said, having overheard. “You talk too much. We’re here because of those hostages, remember?”
Maybe the Japanese were worried about that very notion of betrayal coming into the heads of their enemy because it soon became clear that the Japanese weren’t taking any chances. Once the Japanese were formed up, there were more shouted orders and their ranks opened like a chunk of firewood being split down the middle. From the college building emerged a dozen prisoners — a mixed bag of men and three or four women.
“Papa!” shouted the boy, who had been watching rapt as the Japanese formed up. Deke and the others had almost forgotten that he was still there.
A prisoner looked up, tall as a drink of water and skinny as a rail. He was six foot four if he was an inch, towering over the Japanese soldiers. The boy had said that his father’s nickname was “Big Mike,” which made perfect sense. He wore what had once been a business suit, but which was now ragged and hanging loosely on his frame. Clearly, he had lost a lot of weight while being held captive. A reddish beard covered his face, which broke into a smile.
“Roddy!” the prisoner shouted.
The boy started running toward the tall man, who was in turn trying to force his way through the Japanese to reach his son. In a perfect world, it might have been a happy reunion for them both.
But a reunion was not meant to be. “Stop!” Tanigawa shouted, pointing his sword at the man. He wasn’t about to listen, but several Japanese soldiers sprang forward and held him. At first it looked as if they might not be able to stop him because he was so determined to reach his son. The difference in height gave an almost comical impression of a giant being restrained by dwarfs. However, the dwarfs appeared quite strong and the giant among them had been weakened by captivity and starvation. Try as he might, he couldn’t break free. Still, one of the Japs took an elbow to the nose for his trouble, bright blood spurting. The sight of the blood in the middle of what had started out as an almost ceremonial event was jarring and hinted at more to come.
Sergeant Inaba settled the matter by appearing as if out of nowhere and pointing a submachine gun at the prisoner’s head.
“Stop!” he shouted in English. Apparently here was a second Japanese who only pretended not to know the language.
Meanwhile, two Japanese soldiers stepped forward to intercept the boy, who was still running toward the enemy formation. For one terrifying instant, one of them raised his rifle butt as if about to club the boy, but stopped at another warning shout from Tanigawa. Instead of hitting him, they grabbed him and lifted him clean off the ground.
“Let go of my son, damn you!” the prisoner shouted, struggling anew to break free. “Get your hands off him.”
The neat Japanese formation began to unravel. Rifles came off shoulders and began pointing toward the US soldiers, whose own fingers were on their triggers. Deke already had his sights lined up on the Japanese officer, Tanigawa.
“Come on,” he breathed. He fought the urge to pull the trigger. “Come on.”
The situation had quickly worsened and threatened to turn into the bloodbath they had expected from the outset. To his credit, it was Captain Oatmire who stepped forward, putting himself squarely in the middle of everyone’s gunsights. He moved toward the soldiers holding the struggling boy.
“OK, it’s OK, I’ve got him,” he said.
Yoshio was now right on his heels, shouting something in Japanese. The enemy soldiers glanced at Major Tanigawa, who nodded. They let Oatmire take charge of the boy, who got a firm but gentle grip on his shoulders. “It’s all right, kid. You’ll see your father soon enough,” he said. To the father he shouted over the tops of the enemy’s heads, “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of him.”
“Damn these lying people!” the father shouted, but he allowed himself to be shoved back into formation. He really didn’t have any choice.
But Sergeant Inaba had to get in one last blow. He used the metal butt of the submachine gun to jab Big Mike savagely in the small of his back, right in the kidney. The prisoner cried out in pain and sank to his knees.
“Damn you, Inaba!” Big Mike shouted.
The sergeant just smiled. He raised the weapon as if to smash Big Mike again, but stopped when Major Tanigawa shouted something. It was likely that the major was less motivated by any sense of kindness toward the prisoner who was now on his knees than by a desire to maintain the calm after a melee had nearly broken out. Reluctantly, Inaba lowered the weapon.
The rest of the Japanese got back in formation, sandwiching the prisoners in the middle as neatly as a hot dog inside a bun or jelly inside a doughnut.
“One thing for sure, that boy’s father has got a loud mouth,” said Philly, lowering his rifle. “He’s not afraid of these Japanese.”
“In my experience, being a loudmouth can be a health hazard,” Deke replied, muttering around his rifle stock. He hadn’t taken his sights off the Japanese major, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the lieutenant.
“Deke, lower your weapon, dammit,” Honcho said.
“All right,” Deke said, taking his time doing it.
He didn’t like how this was unfolding at all.
Briefly, Deke had been a prisoner himself during a rescue mission on Leyte. General MacArthur had made the release of POWs a priority, just as he was doing here in Manila, so Patrol Easy had found itself at a remote jungle prison camp. The best way of getting the prisoners out had promised to be from within, so Deke had allowed himself to be captured, posing as a lost GI. He had then helped lead the prisoners through the wire and toward safety, all while being pursued by the Japanese guards and a demented camp commandant with a bow and arrow. It had made for a memorable few days, to say the least.
In any case, Deke could certainly sympathize with how these prisoners must feel now, with freedom snatched from them at the last instant. It didn’t sit right with him.
He wasn’t the only one.
“What the hell is happening here?” Honcho wondered aloud. “This wasn’t the deal. They’re supposed to let the prisoners go. Dammit, Oatmire, go talk to him.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tanigawa now stood at the head of the Japanese formation, calmly watching as Captain Oatmire approached him again. This time there was no charade about the need for interpreters. It had already become clear that the officer spoke English.
“Major Tanigawa, what the hell is going on?” Oatmire demanded.