“I guess that girl finally got through your shell,” said Philly, who was standing next to him. “Maybe Deacon Cole isn’t as tough as he lets on.”
“Just keep it up and you’ll find out,” Deke said, some of the old steel back in his voice. But after a moment he wondered, “Do you think I’ll ever see her again?”
“We’re still in the middle of a war, Corn Pone. None of us know if we’ll live to see the next sunrise. Right now we’ve got to cross an ocean that’s crawling with Japanese submarines and a sky that could fill up with Zeros any minute. I wouldn’t go buying any green bananas.”
Deke nodded. He supposed that Philly was right and he was better off not counting on seeing Juana again. Hell, they hadn’t even agreed to write to each other, although it seemed unlikely that their letters would find one another in the chaos of war. If nothing else, he had his memories.
Having boarded the ship that was crossing Manila Bay bound for the vast South China Sea, Patrol Easy was leaving another chapter of the war behind. The fight had left them battered and bruised, having lost three men over the months of bitter battles, including Danilo. It was all a bitter pill to swallow. And yet it was satisfying to know that the Philippines was finally being restored to American hands.
“Hey, Honcho, where are we headed?” Philly asked. He had spotted the lieutenant on deck, coming away from a powwow with a handful of other officers. They all looked dead tired, maybe Lieutenant Steele most of all, considering that he was clearly the oldest of the bunch.
“We’re going to the Ryukyu Islands to handle some trouble there,” the lieutenant replied. “It’s a place called Ie Shima. Among other things, rumor has it that the Japanese Navy has a base there with suicide speedboats that they are sending out against our navy.”
“I guess when they need a job done right, they know who to call. No rest for the weary.”
The lieutenant clapped him on the shoulder. “Gee, Philly, you’re finally catching on.”
There were a few bright spots now that they were leaving Manila behind. Aboard the ship, they were reunited with Private Egan and his war dog, Thor. Deke realized that Patrol Easy had suffered even more losses, if you included Egan’s first war dog, Whoa Nelly, killed in the fighting. While the rest of Patrol Easy had been engaged in Manila, Egan and Thor had been doing guard duty at the port, alert against Japanese saboteurs as American vessels began to fill the waterfront.
Deke reached down and scratched Thor’s ears. “Nice to see you again, boy,” he said.
Egan had been watching with some concern, ready to pull back on Thor’s leash. “Thor doesn’t let just anybody do that, you know.”
“I reckon he’s a good judge of character,” Deke said, who continued scratching Thor’s ears. He always had liked dogs and had mixed emotions about them getting dragged into the war.
“There’s something to be said about that,” Egan agreed. “He knows he can trust you.”
Deke gave Thor a final pat and then looked out to sea, where diamonds of sunlight tipped the waves. Overhead, a formation of fighters buzzed low, serving as their eyes and ears as the small flotilla steamed forward. There was nothing out there but water, but he knew that on the other side of that vast ocean lay another island, and more islands beyond that, stretching all the way to Japan.
He wondered what Juana was doing at that moment, whether she was also thinking of him, or if she had already forgotten about him. Deke smiled to himself and shook his head. Maybe Philly was right — when it came to Juana, he’d gotten it bad. It would take a while for that missing piece of him to grow back.
He glanced over at Thor, who seemed to have the right idea. The dog was stretched out in the sunshine, taking a nap. Lieutenant Steele had added that they had more than a thousand miles of ocean to cross before they reached Ie Shima, so they were settling in for a long voyage. Men had taken up whatever space they could find on deck, some of them reading like Yoshio, his nose already buried in a Western, or they smoked cigarettes, or wrote letters home.
Philly had gotten a card game together, and he tried to wave Deke over, but Deke just shook his head, not interested.
Instead, Deke lay down next to Thor, feeling the sun warm him and the tropical breeze brush his hair. He was normally on high alert, but here on the ocean he had no choice but to put his trust in the ship’s crew. Realizing that, it was like a weight had lifted, and he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.
He closed his eyes and felt his mind drift. That was all right; there would be more fighting, and when it came, he would be ready.
Captain Jim Oatmire had returned to headquarters. He had not thought that he would ever look forward to mess hall cooking or his bunk, but they were far superior to C rations and sleeping on the ground. He didn’t miss any part of that. However, he did find himself missing the soldiers and guerrillas of Patrol Easy. They had an easy camaraderie that did not exist among the headquarters staff, where there were many egos to navigate and toes to step on. Although he was an officer, the soldiers had accepted him once he had proved his worth.
His original assignment to negotiate the release of hostages from the Japanese had taken some twists and turns, not going at all the way he had expected, but ultimately the hostages had survived. He knew well enough that Patrol Easy had saved the hostages, though, not him.
He didn’t feel that he deserved it, but back at HQ the outcome had earned him an attaboy — and something more. None other than General MacArthur’s chief of staff had some news for him. He had summoned Oatmire to a meeting.
“You’ve done such a good job, son, that the Old Man is sending you to Okinawa for the big show.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do there?” He waited a beat and added “sir,” realizing that Patrol Easy had rubbed off on him in more ways than one.
“I guess you could say you’re going to be a troubleshooter. Get some sleep and some chow. You’ll head out tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. That’s great,” Oatmire said, realizing with a sinking feeling that his hopes of a few days of rest had just evaporated like the morning mist in the rays of the rising sun. “That’s really great.”
The ripples left by the fighting in the Philippines kept flowing months and even years after the war. On July 4, 1946, the Philippines was recognized by the United States as an independent democratic nation. For the first time in centuries, the people of the Philippines could determine their own destiny. More than seventeen thousand Americans would stay behind as permanent residents, men and women who gave their lives fighting Imperial Japan, forever sleeping in the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial.
There was also unfinished business from the war. Early one morning in 1946, General Tomoyuki Yamashita put on his dress uniform that had been stripped of any rank or insignia. Slowly and with dignity, he climbed thirteen steps to a platform where a rope with a hangman’s noose waited.
It had taken him less than a minute to climb the stairs, but his journey to this fateful moment had taken months, if not years.
After the defeat in Manila, there had been no good end for the Japanese forces that remained in the Philippines. As the overall Japanese commanding general, Yamashita had remained behind with his troops, fighting as best they could despite running out of food, medical supplies, and ammunition. They had been abandoned by Japan. In the end, his forces became little more than a nuisance rather than a military presence. Finally, Yamashita had seen no choice but to surrender.