To that end, a plan was hatched to cut a hole in the perimeter fence just after midnight on the second night.
“I’d rather cut that hole in the fence sooner rather than later,” Steele said. “But you’re going to need some time to organize the breakout.”
“Sounds about right,” Deke said, although he was beginning to have his doubts. Did their entire escape plan actually revolve around simply cutting a hole in the fence and leaving the details of getting through that hole up to Deke?
“One thing for sure is that we’re not going to leave you in there,” Steele said. “One way or another, we’ll get you out.”
“If the Japanese shoot me outright from the get-go, you won’t have to worry about it.”
The lieutenant frowned. He didn’t have a good response for that.
They talked it over some more. When he presented himself at the gate, it was decided that Deke’s cover story would be that he had become separated from his patrol and had been wandering in the jungle for three days. Desperate and starving in the harsh forest environment, he had been willing to give himself up.
There were a couple of flaws in Deke’s plan. The first — and it was a big one — was that the Japanese wouldn’t believe him and would shoot him outright. The second flaw was that he might be kept separate from the other prisoners and not have a chance to communicate with them. Finally, it was possible that the appearance of a soldier at their gate would alert the Japanese that American troops were in the vicinity. They might double the guard in preparation for an attack, thus making escape harder.
“There are more holes in this plan than I’ve got in my socks,” Lieutenant Steele said unhappily. He glared at Deke. “But if you’re willing to give it a try, then so am I.”
“I was afraid you might say that,” Deke replied. He handed his rifle and bowie knife to Philly. “Take care of these for me, old buddy. If I don’t come back, shoot some Japanese for me.”
“You’ll come back.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Deke attempted a smile to set everyone’s fears at ease, but it looked more like a grimace. “Those Japanese aren’t going to know what hit them.”
The midday sun was blazing down when Deke appeared at the gates of the prison compound.
The arrival of an American soldier at the prison gates caused consternation, to say the least. Deke didn’t understand a word of it, but there was a lot of shouting, some of it directed at him. He couldn’t understand any of it. He saw plenty of rifles pointed at him, but nobody was shooting — at least not yet.
He had arrived without a weapon and with his arms raised over his head in the universal gesture of surrender. He had to credit the sheer surprise at seeing an unarmed American with keeping him alive.
However, they weren’t opening the gates. The Japanese guards kept looking suspiciously at the empty dirt road leading to the gates or at the empty trees in the distance. Maybe they thought that Deke was some sort of Trojan horse. Come to think of it, he was just that, at least in a sense.
Finally, the Japanese came up with an officer who spoke English. He wore round eyeglasses that gave him a studious appearance, like a militant schoolteacher.
“What do you want?” the officer demanded.
“Help me,” Deke said, letting it all pour out. “Please. I can’t take it out here anymore. I got separated from my unit, and I haven’t had anything to eat in days. I want to surrender.”
This was the story he had agreed upon with Lieutenant Steele. The Japanese officer looked him up and down skeptically. His gaze took in the scars on one side of Deke’s face, and the officer’s eyes briefly widened in surprise. It was a universal reaction, Deke thought, whether it came from a Japanese officer or a girl at a USO dance.
Deke certainly looked the part of a GI who had wandered the jungle for days. He carried no rifle or knife; he had no food or canteen. He’d already been plenty dirty, but he had rubbed even more dirt into his face and uniform.
At a gesture from the officer, the gate was opened just wide enough for a couple of soldiers to slip through.
They looked around nervously before hurrying through the gap and then dragging him inside. The gate was immediately shut again.
Before Deke even knew what was happening, his legs were kicked out from under him, and he was dumped on the bare dirt. When he tried to look up, one of the guards clipped him on the jaw with the butt of his rifle, and Deke fell again, his whole world spinning.
He was starting to think that this had been a very bad idea.
“You are a prisoner now,” the officer said. He then said something in Japanese to the guards, which Deke surmised to be something like, Drag him along and make sure he hits every bump on the way.
Two guards shouldered their rifles and dragged him between them. They were a lot stronger than they looked. If Deke hadn’t been a few inches taller than the men, he doubted that his feet would have touched the ground. While dragging him, they somehow managed to get in a few punches as well.
He was taken to what resembled a small, rough-hewn shed with a single door. The door was opened, Deke was thrown inside, and then the door was slammed shut.
There were no windows, so it was like being thrown down a well. The only light filtered through the cracks, so it took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he found himself staring at four plain walls made of unpainted boards. In fact, the interior of the shed proved to be sweltering. The lack of light did not make it any cooler. The whole place smelled of dust, rot, and despair.
The inside of the door had no knob or latch of any kind. There was a solid floor of thick boards. He couldn’t quite stand up all the way before his head hit the pitched roof. The roof was thatched with some sort of reedy material that had the musty smell of moldering straw, but it didn’t have any give to it whatsoever. The thatch did provide a home for a multitude of tropical insects that he could hear scurrying around inches from his face.
The shed hadn’t looked all that sturdy from the outside, but Deke quickly determined that it was more than sturdy enough to hold him.
He put his back against the wall and slid down until he reached the floor, noting that his jaw ached from where he’d been hit with the rifle. That guard had whacked him a good one. He was sure that he’d have one helluva bruise.
Now what?
It turned out that he didn’t have to wait long, although in the dark interior he had somewhat lost track of time. He was dragged out again, blinking in the blinding sun. The Japanese officer that he had started to nickname Eyeglasses in his mind was there with a couple of soldiers who took him firmly by the arms. Also present was a tough-looking noncommissioned officer who promptly punched Deke in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.
The sergeant grunted in satisfaction and said something in Japanese.
The bright sun in his eyes was causing more pain than the blow, but he managed to swivel his head around, doing his best to get a good look at the interior of the prison camp. There were no other prisoners to be seen. They had apparently been ordered to their barracks or were out on work detail, but several Japanese were present. Some stared in amazement at the man who had shown up at their gate; others laughed at the sight of such a pathetic American soldier as Deke was presenting himself to be.
One thing seemed clear, which was that the compound was not on high alert. Deke apparently was not seen as a threat, and his appearance had not set anyone on edge. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or insulted.
This time around Deke was dragged into a much larger structure. His best guess was that he had been taken to the camp headquarters. This building had windows, at least. A Japanese battle flag on the wall and a framed portrait of what must be the Japanese emperor were the only decorations. The flag with its off-center meatball radiating the rays of the rising sun seemed oddly out of context, considering that he had mainly seen these flags waved as souvenirs by GIs. The sight of it in its natural state felt sinister.