“You bringim Silas and John here tomura?” Kaz asked.
“No, too much fight, too many Japan man. We takim food, takim you to marines. Both with marines.” Ariel waved a hand and four more native scouts appeared around us. Two of them hoisted the rations and the others drew their machetes and quickly sliced the rubber raft into pieces.
“Japan man no find, is gut, namba wan, yes Billy?”
“Yeah, great, number one idea,” I said, my mouth gaping. I watched them use the paddles to scrape a depression in the sand and cover the remains of the raft. I looked out to sea, wondering how long Jack would wait. Five more minutes by my watch.
“Well, we came to do a job,” Kaz said. I had to agree. Ariel and his pals were ready to take us to Porter, so why not? Well, I thought of a lot of reasons why not, but with no raft and Jack heading back to Rendova in a couple of minutes, it really didn’t matter.
“Usim marine wailis,” Ariel said. “Send for more gans. We killim plenty Japan man.”
“Wailis?” I said, falling in behind Kaz as the group filed into the bush, each man nearly invisible in the darkness and thick undergrowth.
“Wireless,” Kaz said. “We can use the marine’s radio. As soon as we get there, we can contact Jack.”
“If the Japs don’t mind,” I said.
“Kwait, no ken mekim nois,” Ariel whispered harshly.
“Wait a minute,” I said in a low voice. “One question. How did you know where we were? You shined the flashlight right at us.”
“You smellim like waitman. Bad smell, but not bad as Japan man. Hariap.”
Ariel took off, taking fast, sure steps, as if we were walking through an open field in daylight. We haried ap for the rest of the night, not stopping until the faint light of early dawn.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I can’t believe you endangered these men, Lieutenant, and in the middle of an important operation, goddammit!”
Colonel Victor Krulak paced in front of us, one hand wiping sweat off his crew cut, the other resting on his holstered.45 automatic. I hoped his arm was just tired. His lungs sure weren’t. This was about ten minutes into a full-dress tirade, and he wasn’t done yet.
“These scouts and the Coastwatchers have been invaluable,” Krulak said. Ariel seemed to enjoy the spectacle, even if he might not understand most of it. I tried not to think about the nickname his men had given Krulak. Brute. “Now you want to arrest Porter in the middle of a battle, after Ariel walked through Jap lines to get you here? What the hell are they thinking back on Tulagi?”
“Probably that three murders shouldn’t go unpunished, sir,” I said in my most respectful voice.
“The man you know as Silas Porter may be unstable, Colonel,” Kaz said. “He is not to be trusted.”
“We’ve been trusting him and the other Coastwatcher, Kari, with our lives,” Krulak said. “Not to mention Ariel and the other scouts. But I don’t want to harbor a murderer, even if he’s good in a fight.” He sighed, and grabbed his helmet from where he’d thrown it to the ground during the start of his lecture. “Johnston, get over here,” he yelled to a group of marines watching the proceedings.
“Yes sir,” Johnston said, eyeing us as he approached, tommy gun slung over his shoulder.
“Lieutenant Johnston is taking a platoon to the area in which Porter and Kari are operating,” Krulak said to Kaz and me. “Go with him. Don’t get in the way and don’t get anyone killed.”
“Sam Johnston,” the officer said as we introduced ourselves. He was tall, lean, and filthy, sweat and mud caked on every part of his uniform. After only one night in the jungle, Kaz and I were cultivating much the same look. “I didn’t expect the army to tag along, especially the Polish Army.”
“First to fight, as they say,” replied Kaz.
“That’s what Krakowski was always saying. He wanted the marines to invade France and take on Hitler. He’d enjoy talking with you, but he’s dead.”
“The first to fight often are,” Kaz said. “Now, what is the situation?”
“I’ll explain as we walk,” Johnston said. “Damn, I wish Krakowski could’ve met you.”
In short, the situation could have been better. The marines had been busy raiding up and down the island. They had four Higgins boats hidden on a small island off Voza, where the battalion had been put ashore. The boats carried detachments up and down the coast, hitting Jap installations, then disappearing, keeping the Japs guessing about the size of the force.
Early yesterday, two of the landing craft had dropped off a company north of the Warrior River, under the command of Major Bigger. The Higgins boats were to return to the mouth of the river this morning and extract the marines, after they’d raided an enemy base near Choiseul Bay. The marines didn’t make the rendezvous at oh-six-hundred. Worse yet, there’d been no radio contact, and Major Bigger should have checked in by now.
“Your man Porter is with them,” Johnston said. “Along with the other guy, Kari. Our job was to make contact. They were supposed to have left a radio team and a security detachment at the river mouth, but there was no sign of them either.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said. “What is one platoon supposed to do about it?”
“One marine platoon, you mean. With the Polish Army contingent, of course. Not to mention the US Army’s contribution, Lieutenant Boyle. You know how to use that thing?” He thumbed in the direction of my M1.
“I had some practice in North Africa,” I said. “Although I prefer a Thompson like yours. They were out at the armory, or the navy didn’t want to let one go.”
“They’re good for jungle work,” Johnston said, holding up a hand for the column to halt. Ariel came in from the front at a trot, his head low. I took a hint and went down on one knee. Kaz did the same as Johnston waved his men off the track and they moved several yards into the bush, poised to face any potential threat.
I heard Johnston curse under his breath as he listened to Ariel, who spoke slowly, using as much English as he could muster. He ended by shaking his head slowly. “Mi sori.”
“We’re getting close to the river,” he whispered to us and a sergeant who gathered around, along with the radioman. “There’s a dead white man tied to a tree about a hundred yards up.”
“A marine?” asked the sergeant.
“Ariel can’t tell. He’s naked. In bad shape. Real bad.”
“Are you going to march the entire platoon right by him?” I asked. I knew these guys were no strangers to corpses, but this sounded worse than the standard-issue battle carnage.
“Damn right I’m going to,” Johnston said, the bitterness so sharp in his voice I wasn’t surprised when he spat. “Sergeant Trent, get his dog tags if he’s one of ours. Either way, cut him down. After the men have a chance to see what kind of enemy we have here.”
“It’s Gallaher,” the radioman said as soon as we came to the body. I don’t know how he recognized him.
“Corporal Gallaher was in charge of the company radio,” Johnston said. “Now we know why we haven’t heard anything.” He stood next to the bloody tree, staring at the body as his men marched by. Most looked. None for too long.
Gallaher was stripped naked and bound with rough rope, his hands pulled back around the tree. There was a rope cinched tight in his mouth, and around his legs, immobilizing him against the wide coconut trunk. He must have had a hundred wounds. Bayonets had struck him everywhere. Arms, legs, shoulders; some of those wounds wouldn’t have killed him at first, but the blood loss would have done it sooner or later. His abdomen was peppered with bayonet slashes, his intestines protruding, blackening in the broiling heat.
His genitals were gone.
“It wasn’t quick,” I said.
“No,” was all Johnston said, his eyes fixed on the flies feasting on what had been Gallaher’s eyes. I joined the column, still wanting Porter, but letting thoughts of revenge elbow their way forward and take their rightful place.
We came to the river. Johnston signaled his men to take cover, and they faded into the bush, working their way along the riverbank on either side of us. “That must be where the landing craft went in,” Johnston said. The opposite side of the wide river mouth was a gravelly stretch of even ground leading gently up into a stand of coconut trees. Some were fallen, or snapped off at the top-from age or artillery, it was hard to say. They were planted in even rows, part of an old plantation, most likely. On our side, the banks were steep, loose stones and gnarled roots sticking out where the curving flow of water cut away at the ground.