“That’s affirmative, SEAL.”
“Can they watch for any headlight movement? It’s possible that the general learned of our move here and is cutting out for some fallback position.”
“Will have the Tomcats watching your end of the island, SEAL. How are the new rifles working?”
“Home Base, they work better than expected. Perfectly. So far no other weapons have been used.”
“That’s a Roger, SEAL. Stay in touch.”
Murdock tossed the handset to Holt. “Keep the TAC frequency open so we can receive. Now let’s get back to the headquarters. Where’s Douglas?”
The platoon’s top mechanic and driver jogged up to Murdock.
“You bellowed, Skipper?”
“Those trucks back at the HQ. Let’s go see if you can get that six-by running. It will make our moving around this rock a lot quicker.”
It took them ten minutes to get back to the military headquarters building. The Russians were in total control. Murdock sent Ching in to talk to the Russian major. He came out grinning and pleased to be free.
“Of course you can use the truck,” the major said through Ching’s translation. “We’re pleased that you came to our aid.”
Murdock put Douglas in the cab, and had the SEALs jump in the back of the canvas-topped truck. It held all of them easily.
Ching asked the Russian guide the major had sent with them where the closest outpost was. Ching listened.
“Skipper, the man says the outpost is about nine clicks to the north on the Pacific Coast side.”
“Ching, you and the Ruskie get in the cab and let’s get up there.
The general may be watching for us, but we’ll have to take that chance.
Do we still have that Russian walkie-talkie?” Ching said he had it.
“Turn it on and see if you can get in contact with the general.
Call him in Japanese.”
The truck ground away from the HQ, and the men settled down to a few moments’ relaxation.
“So far this has been a Sunday stroll through Central Park,” Jaybird said.
“I like it this way,” Horse Ronson said. “Let’s hope this is as hard as it gets.”
They were out of the tiny village then, on a dirt road leading close to the coast.
The SATCOM came to life.
“SEAL, this is Home Base.”
“Go, Home Base,” Holt said.
“Our night flyer reports one vehicle is on the road moving north out of the village.”
“Roger that, Home Base. That’s us SEALs in a six-by truck heading to an outpost. Any other traffic heading north?”
“Not exactly a freeway down there, SEAL. Night Fly reports you are the only one moving.”
“Can we get on his frequency, Home Base?”
“Go to TAC Two, that should do it. Home Base out.”
Holt switched the SATCOM set to TAC two.
“SEAL calling Night Fly.”
“Hey, ground-bound SEALS. This is Night Fly. I have one rig moving north.”
“That’s us in a six-by. Any other lights heading that way?”
“Not a one. I’ll keep watch.”
“Thanks, we’ll stay tuned.”
General Nishikawa had received a radio call five minutes after the first jeep was hit by enemy fire. One of his sentries had seen the attack by the camouflaged invaders. The frightened soldier had wept.
He’d said some new weapon had blasted his friends in the jeep, and they’d fallen to the ground apparently dead. There had been no sound of a rifle, no explosion, just a gentle hiss and then the men had gone down.
The general had been at the southernmost point of the island, around from the bay, and had reacted at once. He’d ordered his second in command to strengthen the force at the bay, set up a machine gun, and prepare for the invasion. He’d guessed that the commandos who had attacked had come to weaken his defenses before the main body invaded through the bay.
Again, the Russians had violated their own agreement to give him seven days. He figured the Russians would attack the HQ, so he didn’t return there. Instead he turned the lights off on his jeep and proceeded slowly out of town and north up the coast road. Soon he passed the first outpost. He had taken a six-by-six truck with him, and twenty men fully armed. They would be his personal guard. Now it looked like good planning.
He made one call on the walkie-talkie radio for all outposts to report. Only the three north of the city checked in. The one on the bay evidently had been captured.
Quickly he assessed his resources. He had his twenty men, all armed. He had the two vehicles. Not much of an army. The outposts would surely fall soon. But by that time he would be in his backup position. Only yesterday he had completed stocking the supplies in the hideout.
It was not totally impregnable, but it would be hard to take with regular troops. That part he had planned well. So much for his lofty dreams. At least he had brought to the world stage and the world press the plight of the thousands of Japanese who could not worship their ancestors. The injustice of the giveaway of the Kuril Islands chain and the inhumanity of uprooting thousands of Japanese and rushing them away from their ancestral homes had now become known throughout the world.
Perhaps he had made one small footnote in history. Thousands of Japanese would thank him for his efforts. He would have a small legacy to leave to the Japanese people whether he succeeded or not. The matter had to be addressed sometime, someday. Why not now? He wondered if he was far enough away from the village to turn on the trucks’ headlights.
They could go twice as fast with the lights on. He hesitated. Another few miles just to be safe.
In the captured six-by-six army truck on the coast road heading north, Ching turned up the volume on the walkie-talkie and listened again. It was the fucking Japanese general. If they could receive him, they could talk to him.
“Hey, Commander, listen to this.” Ching gave the set to Murdock, who hit the listen button. He looked up.
“Who is it?”
“The bastard Japanese general. If we can hear him, we can talk to him. Should I try?”
Murdock laughed and nodded. “Fucking right. Tell him we have control of his headquarters, have captured twenty-five of his men, and released the Russian prisoners. See what he says.”
Ching waited for the general to finish his transmission, then spoke in Japanese.
“General Nishikawa. This is the United States Navy force that has come to move you off this Russian island. We have captured your headquarters and released the Russian prisoners. Do you receive me, General?”
There was a pause. Ching shrugged and said it again. “Do you read me, General Nishikawa?”
Another short pause, then a tired voice answered. “Yes, I receive you. And I put a curse of a thousand years on you and your issue. You have disrupted the legitimate challenge of a whole people to be able to worship as they see fit, to sit at the graves of their ancestors and commune with them. Diplomats have taken this right away from us, and you and your kind are to blame as well for enforcing the diplomats’ shame.
“Yes, I hear you, but will the world hear the waiting and gnashing of teeth, the screams of our ancestors’ spirits as their sacred graves are desecrated, bulldozed away, razed and torn down so some Russian may raise a pod of peas?”
“General, it is time to come in, to submit to our control and end this whole military campaign,” Ching said. “That will allow you to continue to wage your civilian campaign, your political effort to have some of the islands restored to Japan so your ancestors may be once again consecrated and protected.” There was another pause as the truck rolled along the dirt roadway. “Could I ask if you are Japanese?” the general said.