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Edited on Tue Oct-05-04 10:00 AM by BigMcLargehuge
Tears of Amaterasu (the manuscript is in standard format, I have to post it in this format here)
21
The battalion marched quickly through Wuxhi past the charred and sagging buildings, heaps of Chinese corpses and shattered remnants of a mass exodus; cups and plates, pictures and newspapers, dolls and even large pieces of furniture dropped by fleeing residents as the Japanese approached.
Kubo’s chill disappeared by the time they encountered the third nest of short-range artillery, ammunition, and sandbags abandoned beside the Shanghai/Nanking Railway. Jiro elbowed Kubo gently in the ribs and said, “I have to pee, come on.”
Kubo barked out for permission to break formation.
Shima faded back until he was beside Kubo and Jiro. “What?” he asked.
Kubo motioned towards his groin.
Shima nodded, “triple time back into formation when you’re done.”
Kubo nodded then he and Jiro fell out of formation and turned their backs to the column. Both boys began to pee.
Jiro looked over his shoulder then turned to Kubo, “I don’t like this squad,” he said.
Kubo didn’t answer but concentrated on squeezing the last drops of liquid from his blatter.
“Takarada seems dangerous. Dying is okay, but dying for nothing is crazy.” Jiro shook his member and slipped it back into his khaki trousers. “We’ll cover each other okay?”
Kubo answered, “just like before.”
“Right,” Jiro said then slapped Kubo’s shoulder before jogging off alongside the column.
Kubo returned to his place in the march and fell into its sloppy rhythm. By mid-afternoon the column was forced to snake around bomb craters and shattered emplacements. Kubo spied the pointy tail of a 250 Kg bomb poking up from the ground.
He knew then that this was the work of some squadron of small planes clearing the approach to Nanking.
The thought that the airmen, most as young as he, were acting as some unstoppable and dashing spear point for their advance silenced any lingering fear buried within his heart.
No matter what Jiro’s worries were about Takarada it appeared now that Nanking would fall like the other cities, quickly.
By evening a thick pall of black smoke rose from the horizon and spread upwards through the shadows of the Mufu and Purple Mountains. By night the flames of a great conflagration climbed into the night sky.
“They are burning the villages around the city,” Kubo said then had to wonder if he believed the words escaping his mouth. Instead of the narrow alleys and thatched roofs of every village they’d seen surrounding every other city, the capital sat behind by a wall of fire.
Shima called the squad to a halt and the men fell out. “We wait here, ready yourselves, I have no doubt that the Chinese are aware of our presence.”
“We want duty,” Takarada said, “we’ll scout.”
Shima puzzled for a second, then said, “Tonight we gather our strength.”
“If you don’t volunteer us, I’ll go without orders.” Takarada pushed close to the corporal, “and they will all come with me.”
Shima ground his teeth before speaking, “I am the officer. You will do what I say.”
Takarada’s face grew increasingly angry as if possessed by some demon. “You better not push me Chosun,” he hissed.
Shima gripped the sword’s hilt and even though hidden behind leather gloves, the other soldiers knew Shima’s knuckles crackled and went white. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll destroy you Hizen.”
Takarada withdrew slowly but never lost the appearance that he could strike at any second.
Shima’s remained unmoved, his face placid as if prepared for any attack the larger machine gunner could manage. He drew the sword so that a few inches of blade caught the morning light and illuminating the characters etched across the polished folded steel.
Kubo could not make out the characters as Corporal Shima replaced the blade as smoothly and effortlessly as he showed it.
Corporal Shima’s face returned to its normal emotionless countenance as he turned to the face the entire squad, “No food tonight, but plenty of time for sleep.” He then turned on his heel and strode off into the growing darkness.
Kubo settled down behind a row of bushes and slipped out of his haversack. Jiro dropped beside him. By now the boys had marched over so much of China that their legs no longer ached, their feet no longer throbbed or burned. All the pain was gone, beaten from their bodies by each step and leaving only empty numbness in its wake.
“What are you two doing?” Takarada said and loomed over them, “didn’t you hear me?”
The boys looked at each other then both up at Takarada. Kubo said, “Time for sleep…”
“Time for patrol,” Takarada interrupted.
Jiro snapped, “The Corporal said we were to sleep and prepare for tomorrow…”
“I don’t care what that pig says. Leave your gear, get your rifles ready, and let’s go,” Takarada kicked Kubo’s haversack over, “before I count to three.”
Kubo stood slowly, “I don’t know what your problem with Corporal Shima is but…”
Takarada slapped Kubo hard across the cheek, “do not disobey me!”
Jiro sprang to his feet and pressed the muzzle of his Arisaka rifle against Takarada’s cheek. Jiro snarled, “touch him again and I’ll kill you!”
Eleven other rifles and one Nambu light machine gun aimed at Jiro and Kubo one second later.
“Put the rifle down peasant,” Takarada grunted, “you can see I have loyalty.”
“Then let them shoot,” Jiro hissed.
Takarada waved at the other soldiers to put their rifles down. “Take that gun out of my face,” he said.
Jiro pulled the bolt action back. A sharp click-clack broke the stillness. “Don’t ever touch him again.”
Takarada raised his hands slowly, “fine, stay here.”
“We will,” Jiro answered.
“But don’t look for us when we get into the battle. None of us will be there.” Takarada placed his palm against the wooden rifle stock and gently pushed the rifle away from his head.
"We won’t,” Kubo said.
Takarada glanced over his shoulder at Jiro and Kubo as the squad disappeared into the night.
“What’s wrong with him?” Kubo asked and rubbed his cheek where Takarada had struck it.
“He’s from an old Shogun family that fell out of favor and gave their land holding to the state during Meiji. Did you hear what he called the Corporal? Chosun… One of the few families to retain power in the Diet while Takarada’s was knocked down to the status just above common peasants.” Jiro said then stretched slowly. His spine offered a short series of pops and a satisfied sigh.
“He’s dangerous,” Kubo said, “regardless of his family history.”
Jiro nodded then handed Kubo a cigarette. “Don’t worry about them now. With luck a Chinese battalion is waiting for them in the dark and we won’t have to see them again.”
Kubo blew a thick cloud of gray smoke into the night sky, “if we’re lucky.”
“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get to Nanking?” Jiro sat up on his elbows.
Kubo stared down at the growing fire ringing the city before answering. “I don’t know,” he said, “I just want to get there.”
“I want a woman,” Jiro said, “two women.”
“You think there will be women there? So far all we’ve found are grandmothers…”
“All the young women have to have fled somewhere. Nanking is as good as anyplace. The way I see it, all the peasants around here and all the refugees from Wuxhi and Suzhou are in Nanking now. I figure the Chinese are burning the villages to open up the approach so they can put machine guns on the wall. Nanking is the capital. It’s where everyone would go for safety.” Jiro stubbed his cigarette on the cold ground and turned to watch the fire.
“Then I want a woman too. I’ve never been with one,” Kubo said.
“Really?” Jiro asked, then chuckled softly.
“What?” Kubo barked then slapped Jiro across the shoulders. “Don’t tell me you are some great lover…”
“No, but I’ve been with a woman before which is more than can be said of you. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how to do it.” Jiro rolled over and stared at the stars. “Once we get to Nanking everything will be different.”
Kubo snuggled against his friend, felt his warmth and thought of how bravely he’d stood up to Takarada. “Thank you for standing up for me,” Kubo whispered.
Jiro didn’t answer.
Kubo closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Kubo awoke to a sharp kick in the ribs and Takarada staring down at him in the darkness. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he coughed.
“Just a reminder,” Takarada said.
Kubo elbowed Jiro who merely grunted and rolled but refused to awaken. He stared up into Takarada’s eyes and saw the emptiness of his pupils, as if his soul was somewhere back in Japan awaiting his body’s return. For the first time in weeks, Kubo felt real fear grip his heart.
Takarada squatted beside Kubo and spat only millimeters from his head. “Coward,” he said, and then slowly stood.
Kubo ground his teeth but didn’t move otherwise. He desperately wished Jiro would awaken. Kubo knew he didn’t need Jiro’s protection, but two on one was always better than one on one if it came to fists and blades. “You better watch your back,” Kubo whispered, “because I have good aim and a long memory.”
Takarada snickered, “that goes double for you,” then backed our of Kubo’s sight.
Kubo lay awake for the rest of the night and listened to the occasional footsteps of soldiers on duty punctuating the rumble of ten thousand snores rising into the early morning sky. Many others awakened before reveille and their stirring washed through the camp like the lapping of bloodied water on Tai Hu’ shoreline; the click an clack of rifle cleaning, the ring of mess kit pans, loud yawns, scratches and grunts as each soldier greeted the morning before the final push to Nanking.
Kubo nudged Jiro’s side, “wake up,” he said.
Jiro rolled over and blinked slowly.
“It’s almost time,” Kubo said.
Jiro nodded and shook the first tendrils of grogginess from his head then sat up on his elbows. “They haven’t blown reveille yet?”
“Not yet, but soon.” Kubo glanced at the lightening sky then at his wristwatch. “It’s almost five.”
“Where’s the squad?” Jiro asked while rubbing his cold cheeks with only slightly warmer hands.
Kubo pointed east and answered, “Sleeping I guess.”
“I wonder what they did last night? It’s stupid to tire themselves the night before we march to the capital…”
“Takarada woke me about four hours ago.” Kubo said then gritted his teeth together.
“Why?” Jiro asked then stretched his legs slowly before rising to squat over the cold ground.
“To threaten me… Us.”
Jiro’s head snapped back and forth. He grunted, “Where is he!”
“I’m going to report him to the corporal.”
“Don’t be stupid. If Shima hasn’t done anything by now, then you’re wasting our time.
What did Takarada say?” Jiro asked. He kept his voice low, deep, threatening.
“He said he’d shoot us in the back.”
Jiro withdrew his bayonet from it’s sheath in the belt laying beside his empty haversack. He stared at Kubo for a second then said, “Come on.”
“What are you going to do?” Kubo asked.
“Just come with me and keep lookout.”
The boys crept through the camp. Shima bivouacked the squad behind a large clump of wild bushes on the periphery of a long irrigation ditch feeding the sorghum fields off the Yangtze. The place provided ample cover from any Chinese soldiers who might probe the encampment, and better, from the prying eyes of other Japanese squads.
They prowled around each of the sleeping squad members until Jiro waved Kubo to a halt. Jiro pointed down and nodded then silently mouthed the words, “Right here.”
Kubo slunk in beside and surveyed the area. Takarada lay between two other soldiers, their head almost directly beneath a small bush. The space between the sleeping infantrymen offered only one foot of clearance.
Jiro waved Kubo back then backed himself away. The two stalked behind the bushes as few meters from where the squad slept. “We don’t have much time before reveille,” Jiro whispered.
“What are you going to do?” Kubo jerked his head from side to side constantly as if any second Corporal Shima would burst through the bushes and demand to know what they were up to.
“I’m going to slit his throat. What do you think I’m going to do?” Jiro answered and wiggled the bayonet.
“Are you insane? We can’t murder Takarada…”
Jiro hissed, “Do you think he will have the same thoughts when he is behind us in battle today with his Nambu pointed at our spines?”
Kubo shook his head, “it doesn’t matter what the hell he thinks! We’ll report him to Corporal Shima, we can go now and get it done before he even knows we’re gone!”
“Then what? We march? We fight? In the chaos he, or the others in the squad, execute us. No one questions anything because we die in battle. I don’t care what you think! I don’t care that you think I’m crazy. We don’t have time for official channels. Takarada has marked us and he’s going to kill us unless we kill him first.” Jiro glanced back as the bushes rustled.
Both boys hushed momentarily until the shadow of an infantryman was visible behind the branches.
“Make like you’re peeing!” Jiro whispered and turned to face the irrigation canal.
Kubo did the same.
A second later Takarada staggered through the brush. His eyes were still half closed from sleep. He yawned loudly and fumbled with his trousers, unaware that two pairs of eyes peered at him from behind.
Jiro clutched the bayonet handle tightly and concealed the blade behind his forearm. He glanced at Kubo then crept towards the light-machine gunner.
Takarada groaned and released a thick urine stream.
Jiro brought the blade up slowly, then as if he’d practiced the movements a million times, slapped his hand over Takarada’s mouth and nose. Jiro wrestled Takarada towards the canal, struggling against the larger man’s fierce elbows and strong legs.
Kubo threw himself at Takarada’s legs.
The three of them tumbled over beside the canal, arms and legs flailed madly, but not a single recognizable human sound escaped the fray.
Jiro squirmed atop Takarada’s chest and with a single powerful stroke, jammed the bayonet up underneath Takarada’s chin, through the tongue and soft pallet and deep into his brain.
Takarada’s body twitched and shivered as the blade twisted in his skull.
Jiro slowly withdrew the bayonet, rivulets of blood streaked down Takarada’s neck and out of his nose. Jiro tore Takarada’s shirt open and cleaned the blade on the underside of the beige khaki.
Kubo rolled the body into the canal carefully to avoid creating a splash.
They waited there for a moment as the corpse floated slowly downstream, away from the rest of the squad.
Kubo whispered, “What do we do now?”
Jiro stripped off his bloodied shirt and buried it in the mud, “We go back to where we were sleeping. I have a spare shirt in my pack. We sleep until reveille, longer even, until someone must come and wake us. By the time anyone thinks to look for Takarada he’ll be a mile downstream and they’ll think he deserted. Come on, we can’t wait here.”
The boys crept back to their camp and lay down together beneath the blanket. Jiro wriggled into his spare shirt and closed his eyes. He whispered, “Don’t worry. No one will miss him.”
Kubo nodded and closed his eyes to wait for reveille.
The bugle sounded only a few minutes later.
Kubo and Jiro waited until one of the others finally came around to see why they weren’t awake. “Get up you too… Takarada’s missing and we need to find him before Shima gets here.”
Jiro lolled over slowly, “What?” he asked groggily.
“Come on get up. And wake the other one up too,” the infantryman pointed at Kubo.
“Alright… We’ll meet you in a minute.” Jiro pushed up onto his elbows and shook Kubo’s shoulder then watched as the infantryman stomped back through the bushes.
“That was easy,” Kubo said, “I just hope he’s floated far enough downstream…”
“Just play dumb. We only just got here. Don’t worry.” Jiro repacked his haversack and the two boys loped off to meet the rest of the squad.
Corporal Shima arrived only a few minutes into the search. “Assemble down in the clearing,” he said.
The squad lined up for roll call.
“Where’s Takarada?” Shima barked, “if he’s drunk…”
“We can’t find him sir,” one of the infantrymen blurted, “He was right here beside us when we bunked down. He was gone when reveille sounded.”
“A deserter!” Shima hissed, “He won’t get far…” The corporal prowled the line again, “and if any of you are thinking of joining your beloved Takarada, let me remind you what awaits him when he’s caught. And he will be caught.” He drew his sword half way out of the sheath.
The squad murmured softly.
“Pack up and line up with the rest of the platoon. We march in ten minutes!” The corporal scrawled something on a scrap of paper and handed it to one of the soldiers, “Field HQ, and be back before we march or I’ll have your ass too.”
The soldier bowed before running off towards the headquarters a kilometer East.
Kubo and Jiro hurried down to where the column slowly formed and took their place in the marching order. Nine minutes later the other members of the 2nd Squad were assembled with Corporal Shima waiting beside them until the march whistle sounded and the thunder of a ten thousand footsteps shattered the early morning air.
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