Someone was slapping his face. He opened his eyes.
A man was looking at him, so close that Steve could smell garlic on his breath. He was sharp-featured and had a bushy black mustache. Steve started to try to get up.
He felt strong hands pushing him back.
"See if you can move your legs," the man ordered. Steve moved his legs. "And your arms." Steve moved his arms.
The hands that had been pushing him down now pulled him into a sitting position.
"I’m Jacob Reeves," he said. "Who are you?"
"I’m Corp- SergeantKoffler, United States Marine Corps."
"United StatesMarine Corps? Well, I will be goddamned. A sodding American!"
"Yes, Sir," Steve said.
Steve felt a sting, and slapped at his face, and then looked at his hand. It was the largest mosquito he had ever seen, if it was a mosquito. He also became aware of a stench, something rotten.
"What smells?" he asked.
"At the moment, old boy, I’d say that’s you. The jungle stinks, but not quite that much."
Oh, my God, I shit my pants!he thought in horror. And then he had another horrifying thought: Lieutenant Howard! Where the fuck is he? Did he go into the trees, too?
"Sir, there’s somebody else. And two cargo parachutes . . ."
"We have the mattresses," Reeves said. "Your other man landed in the trees."
"Is he all right?"
"I don’t know. We’re still looking for him. The girls are already carrying the packages to the village. Are you all right to walk?"
"I think so," Steve said.
"Good," Reeves said. "The sodding Jap chose to send another of his sodding patrols looking for us. We’re going to have to do something about that."
"You think they’re going to find us?"
"Wehave to find them," Reeves said. "They must have seen
the aircraft and the sodding parachutes, so they know there’s something going on up here except some unfriendly natives."
"I don’t understand, Sir."
"The Japs are now headed down the hill," Reeves explained, "to report what they saw. We have to make sure they don’t make it. Otherwise, the Jap will send troops up here and keep them here until they do find us."
Steve got to his feet. He had to steady himself for a moment against a tree trunk, but then he was all right.
He slapped at another mosquito.
"What about Lieutenant Howard?" he asked.
"I told my head boy he has five minutes to find him," Reeves said.
"And if he doesn’t find him in five minutes, then what?"
"Then we’ll have to stop looking, I’m afraid. What has to be done is stop the sodding Japs from reporting what they saw."
"Fuck you," Steve said. "I’m not going anywhere without Lieutenant Howard."
"I’ve explained the situation, lad," Reeves said evenly.
"So have I," Steve said. "I’m a fucking Marine. We just don’t take off and leave our people behind."
"That’s a very commendable philosophy, I’m sure, but-"
"I don’t give a shit what you think of it," Steve interrupted. "That’s the way it’s going to be."
The discussion proved to be moot.
A brown-skinned, fuzzy-haired man appeared out of nowhere. He was wearing a loincloth, a bone in his nose, and a web cartridge belt around his neck, and he was carrying a British Lee-Enfield MK III .303 rifle. He announced, in understandable English, "We have the other bloke, Mr. Reeves. He was hanging from the trees. He has broken his arm."
At least he’s alive,Steve thought. Thank God! Then he thought, What’s he going to think when he finds out I shit my pants? My God, I can’t believe I really did that!
A moment later, there was the sound of something moving through the muck on the forest floor. And then Lieutenant Howard appeared. His left arm was folded and strapped across his chest with his cartridge belt; his right arm was around the shoulder of a short, plump, brown-skinned, fuzzy-headed, bare-breasted woman. She was wearing what looked like a dirty towel, and carrying Howard’s Thompson .45-caliber submachine gun.
"Jesus, I was worried about you," he said to Koffler.
"I’m Jacob Reeves," Reeves said.
"Lieutenant Howard, U.S. Marine Corps," Howard said.
"Cecilia," Reeves said to the bare-breasted woman, "I want you to take this gentleman to the village. You think you can do that?"
Cecilia smiled, revealing that her teeth were stained almost black.
"Of course," she said. "I think one or two of the other girls are about to help, if need be."
Christ, she sounds just like Daphne!
"Make him as comfortable as you can. Give him some of the whiskey. When we get there, we’ll tend to his arm.
"You better take that tommy gun, Sergeant," Reeves said to Steve Koffler, adding to Howard, "We’ll see you a bit later, then."
"Where are you going?" Howard asked.
Reeves didn’t answer. He started trotting off into the jungle. Steve Koffler took the Thompson and two extra twenty-round magazines from Howard’s pocket, and ran after him.
(Four)
Steve became aware as they moved through the forest that others were with them besides Jacob Reeves and the guy with the bone through his nose, although he had trouble getting a clear look at any of them.
They were going downhill. Although it wasn’t like the sticky muck where they had landed, the ground was still wet and slippery. He had to watch his footing and to keep his eye on Reeves. His chest hurt from the exertion. There seemed to be a cloud of insects around his face, crawling into his ears and nostrils and mouth.
What seemed like hours later, they stopped. According to his watch, it was only thirty-five minutes. Steve stood there, sweat-soaked, breathing hard, looking with mingled amazement and horror at his hands and arms, which were covered with insect stings.
Reeves came up to him.
"Do you know how to use that tommy gun?"
"I fired it in boot camp," Steve said.
"In other words, you don’t."
"I qualified," Steve said sharply.
"The way we’re going to do this," Reeves said, "the Japs will be coming down a path this way. What I would like you to do is make sure that none of them gets past you. This will be successful only if we take all of them. If one of them gets away ... You understand?"
Steve nodded.
"We’ll have our go at them about fifty yards up the footpath," Reeves said. "It then passes just a few yards from here. You go have a look at it, and then find yourself a place. Clear?"
"OK," Steve said.
"It shouldn’t take them long to get down here, so be quick," Reeves ordered.
"OK," Steve repeated. He swung the Thompson off his shoulder. When he looked up again, Reeves was nowhere in sight.
Steve made his way through the thick undergrowth until he found the path. He walked ten yards up it, and then ten yards in the other direction, and then backed off into the underbrush again and leaned against a tree.
After a moment, he allowed himself to slip to the ground. This action reminded him that his shorts, and now his trouser legs, were full of shit.
He started to think about his and Daphne’s bungalow in postwar Melbourne again.