Gathering this data had required little in the way of effort. The soldiers he'd met on the trail were more than happy to chatter like magpies when they'd met up with him. After all, he was one of them, wasn't he? Nomura's tattered uniform and missing arm were more than enough to induce the soldiers to tell him everything they knew. It was inconceivable that he could be anything other than what he looked like- an honored Japanese war veteran.
But what had he done lately? Joe wanted to do something that would really help the men who were fighting and dying for him. At least Dennis Chambers was still alive, feeling well, kicking and bitching. Chambers was as frustrated as he was. Living the life of a virtual hermit on a Kyushu mountaintop was driving Chambers nuts as well. An air force pilot, not a recluse, he too wanted to do something.
When they'd heard of the landings, the two men had discussed the possibility of working their way south and into the American lines. This they'd quickly discarded as an improbable accomplishment. Dennis's white skin would mark him as an enemy to the Japanese, and he'd be shot on sight if he was lucky. Then, Joe's yellow skin would draw fire from every American who saw him, and they'd ask questions later. They'd reluctantly decided they were much better staying where they were and not trying to get through the combatants. If the Japs surrendered, then they would decide how to deliver themselves to the proper authorities.
What really worried both men was that the war would develop into a prolonged stalemate, causing them to stay in hiding indefinitely in northern Kyushu. Equally frightening was the thought that the fighting would work its way northward and wash over them. This would cause the same difficulties as trying to get through the lines in the first place.
It wasn't fair, but what the hell else was new? Then he saw the bicycle lying on its side on the edge of the path. He grinned as he saw that no rider was around. If it was abandoned and rideable, it would beat the hell out of walking all over Kyushu in search of information to send back to mama in the States.
Joe grabbed the handlebars, righted it, and worked the pedals. It was dirty and battered, but the tires had air and it otherwise looked all right. Finally, he might be more useful. He would take the bike back to where Dennis was hidden and they'd discuss it over a shot of their dwindling supply of whiskey.
The bicycle was painted brown, which meant that it belonged to the military or at least had at some time in its past. This didn't worry him. With the desperate shortage of fuel, bicycles were everywhere, and many had belonged to the military. A brown bicycle would draw no attention, particularly since it would be ridden by a one-armed vet.
As he turned the bike around and began to pedal awkwardly, he saw something sticking out of the tall grass alongside the path. It was a leg.
"Hello, hello," he said softly, then grimaced as he realized he'd accidentally spoken in English. He hadn't made that mistake in a while, not even with Chambers.
Joe got off the bike and walked over to where the body lay facedown. The man wore the uniform of a captain in the Japanese secret police, the kempei. Joe knelt down and checked for a pulse even though the body was cold and graying. The captain of the secret police was dead. Joe rolled the corpse on its back and saw a massive indentation in its skull.
With no other evidence, he concluded that the Jap officer had crashed his bike and fractured his skull in the fall. A little checking showed a rock near where he'd first found the bike that had what looked like dry bloodstains on it. The officer had probably crawled the few feet away from the accident before dying.
So now what to do? he wondered. Joe grinned and rifled the man's pockets, finding identification papers and money, along with a ring of keys. Joe took the corpse by one foot and dragged it farther into the underbrush. There, he stripped off the uniform and boots. After hesitating only a second, he took the dead man's underwear, leaving the body naked and unidentifiable. If he wasn't found in a couple of days, he'd be bloated and half-eaten by bugs. The kempei officer would become just another dead body in a country that was filled with corpses.
All the while he did this, Joe kept looking up and down the path to see if anyone else was coming. No one did and Joe wasn't surprised. Other than the army, or refugees on the main paths leading farther north, everyone tried to stay near the refugee camps, where there was at least a little food. A lot of people had also made the passage across to Honshu to get away from the fighting. He thought the civilian population of Kyushu was half what it had been when he'd first landed.
Joe made a bag out of the dead man's pants, slung the improvised sack over his shoulder, and remounted the bike. As he pedaled down the path, his spirits were uplifted. He had absolutely no idea what he might do with the kempei uniform, but he had at least done something. Or maybe the beginning of something. Maybe he and Dennis could work on the uniform and make it fit him. It was a shame that the dead Jap was such a plump little shit. It would make alterations that much more difficult. But not impossible, he exulted, not impossible at all.
Chapter 37
The U.S. Army's I Corps headquarters was in a badly damaged brick building in the small port city of Miyazaki. The shattered windows were covered with wood, and it was ringed by grim-faced American sentries. Even though the town was considered secure, no one was taking chances on suicide attacks.
After meeting briefly with the commander of the 41st Infantry Division, Brig. Gen. John Monck walked out into the shattered streets and up to his chief of staff, Colonel Parker. As they walked, their four-man security detail formed a loose perimeter around them. Monck hating having them, but, like the situation at I Corps, it was better to be safe than sorry. More than one senior officer had already been killed by Jap snipers.
Parker was his usual almost insolent self. "Well, what new tidings did they give you, General? Will the war be over by Christmas? The way the Japs are still fighting, the only way that could occur would be for us to surrender to them."
Monck sighed. He was exhausted and not really in the mood for Parker's often snide comments. As usual, though, he said nothing. Parker was far too valuable to him for him to be put off by his attitude. Besides, Parker was so often right.
"Parker, Major General Doe says we are doing a fine job and that we should keep up the good work. We are to continue plugging our way north, killing Japs and climbing hills as we go. Before you say anything, let me agree with you. It isn't much in the way of grand strategy, or innovative tactics, but then, there isn't much we can be strategic or innovative about in this campaign. At this point, this is nothing more than a slugging match."
Parker raised his hands briefly in mock surrender. "What about our casualties? Did General Doe have any comment there?"
Monck shook his head sadly. "When I told Doe we had taken eighty dead and more than two hundred wounded in less than a week of actual fighting, he didn't seem unduly disturbed or impressed. When I reminded him that it was about eight percent of my regiment, he just shrugged and said he'd see what he could do about getting us some replacements."