Yamagata had not asked his subordinates to sit, which was an indication of his seriousness and the formality of this meeting. They both stood at attention, awaiting what the commandant had to say.
“I have concerns about the prisoners. They are lazy,” he explained to Lieutenant Osako and Sergeant Matsueda. “They do not work hard enough. What they lack is motivation.”
Both of the other men shifted uncomfortably, the one mentally blaming the other. Osako would have said that Matsueda was too cruel and broke the spirit of the prisoners, and Matsueda would have said that the namby-pamby lieutenant was too weak and allowed the lazy Americans to do whatever they wished. Had they been questioned, they would have been more than happy to throw the other man under the bus. No love was lost between them.
However, both men knew better than to say anything in the presence of the commandant other than “Hai!”
“Tomorrow morning, we shall prepare a demonstration for them,” the commandant said, glancing meaningfully at his bow in the corner.
Most officers carried a sword as a badge of office, but Yamagata preferred his bow. He practiced with it constantly, firing endless arrows at a target at the far end of the prison yard. He had rediscovered his love of the bow and arrow that he had hunted with as a youth, and he found archery to be a good way to alleviate the boredom of this remote posting.
Both men standing before him in his office knew that he rarely missed, although a bow and arrow was not a very useful weapon in the war they were fighting.
Neither man was sure what the commandant had in mind, which was why it was so surprising the next day when the prisoners were assembled in the yard, and instead of another political speech, the commandant had ordered that the gate be opened.
“Sir?” Lieutenant Osako made the mistake of hesitating.
Glaring at him for questioning the command, Yamagata barked, “Open the gate!”
“Hai!”
The lieutenant hurried to carry out the commandant’s order, although he didn’t see the sense of it. He glanced over at Matsueda. If the sergeant had guessed the commandant’s intent, his face remained inscrutable.
Although the commandant spoke English passably well, he usually spoke Japanese and had Lieutenant Osako translate for the POWs. This seemed to indicate the commandant’s authority and avoided any embarrassment about his shortcomings in speaking English.
Today was different, however. Carrying his bow, he approached the assembled prisoners and spoke directly to them in English.
“Some of you do not seem happy here,” he said. “So I am giving you an opportunity to leave. All that you must do is reach the gate and escape my arrow. Is this not fair? Who would like to try first?”
The prisoners stared at Yamagata as if not sure they had heard him correctly. Over his shoulder, the open prison gates beckoned.
“What’s the catch?” a prisoner called.
“No catch. Those who do not like it here may try to leave.”
Yamagata offered no further explanation, letting his offer sink in. The sun beat down, and the day seemed to grow hotter, or maybe it was only the tension of the moment.
After what seemed like an eternity, Yamagata pointed at one of the Filipino prisoners. There were a handful held here, and they were not well liked by the Japanese.
“You,” Yamagata said. “You will go.”
When the stunned prisoner made no effort to go anywhere, Sergeant Matsueda walked over and shoved him forward.
That was when one of the Americans took a half step out of the formation and said, “Hold on, I’ll go.”
Faraday swiveled his head and stared in consternation at Lucky, who had stepped forward to announce to the bow-wielding commandant that he would be willing to make a run for it.
“Lucky, what the hell are you doing?” Faraday whispered. “Get back in formation!”
“I can’t stand this place anymore,” Lucky replied. “If this is a chance to get out of here, I’ll take it.”
“Even if you make it through that gate, there’s nothing but jungle out there!”
“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be in here.”
Faraday wasn’t ready to give up. “We’ve all seen the commandant practice with that bow. He’s a good shot.”
Lucky winked. “All I’ve got to do is outrun that Filipino fella.”
“That only works when you’re being chased by a bear. It doesn’t work with arrows.”
Lucky just shook his head. “Listen, Rex. We all know the Japs plan on killing us, one way or another. They’re working us to death in this place. Maybe it’s better to die quick.” He grinned at Faraday, and for a moment he was the same old carefree Lucky. In his mind, maybe he had already escaped. He then added, “Besides, they don’t call me Lucky for nothing.”
Faraday might have argued further, trying to convince his buddy not to risk it, but Mr. Suey approached and poked Faraday sharply in the ribs with a swagger stick. He shouted something in Japanese that Faraday took to mean, “Shut the hell up!”
Lucky stepped up beside the Filipino prisoner whom the commandant had singled out. The Filipino turned as if to go back into formation, but Mr. Suey was there to take his arm and stop him.
“You both go,” the commandant said. He stepped off to one side and nocked an arrow. The metal tip gleamed wickedly in the sun.
Lucky crouched like a sprinter, awaiting the signal. The Filipino still looked as if there was anything else that he would prefer doing. Finally, he made the sign of the cross and followed Lucky’s lead by getting into a sprinter’s crouch.
Among the prisoners, it was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. Faraday realized that he was holding his breath. He was sure that the thickness of the tropical air would weigh Lucky down.
The distance to the open gates was no more than three hundred feet, all of it across dusty, open ground. Essentially, Lucky was making a one-hundred-yard dash like they had done in training. Fifteen seconds had been considered a good time when they had been fit and well fed. How long would it take Lucky now? And how many arrows could the commandant let loose in that same time frame?
Lucky didn’t bother waiting for a signal, but took off running. He seemed to explode from the spot, racing away across the prison yard and quickly outpacing the other man trailing him. For the first time, Faraday actually felt hopeful. Maybe Lucky could pull it off.
Unable to help themselves, some of the prisoners began shouting encouragement. “Go! Go, Lucky!”
The Japanese soldiers got in on the act, shouting what sounded like jeers.
The two runners had taken different strategies. Lucky zigzagged from side to side, suddenly changing direction. It would take him longer to cross the open ground, but it made him a more difficult target. The other prisoner ran flat out in a straight line. In seconds, both men had covered half the distance to the open gates. The shouting from both sides grew more intense.
Colonel Yamagata drew his bow, held the string briefly by his ear, then released. The arrow sang through the air and just missed Lucky, who dodged out of the way at the last instant. Faraday had the thought that Yamagata was discovering that moving targets were much harder to hit than a stationary bull’s-eye.
“Run!” Faraday shouted.
The commandant drew back again, this time having to elevate his aim as the distance between him and the runners increased. When he released, the arrow had so much energy that Faraday could clearly hear the hiss it made leaving Yamagata’s bow.