Bridge of Scarlet Leaves (32 page)
Read Bridge of Scarlet Leaves Online
Authors: Kristina McMorris
“
S
ch
,
the reason I am here is ...” Enabling the commander to save face would be a must. “I was ordered to extend to you a proposal. Out of acknowledgment of your valor, and that of your men, my leader is offering a peaceful solution.”
S
ch,the reason I am here is ...” Enabling the commander to save face would be a must. “I was ordered to extend to you a proposal. Out of acknowledgment of your valor, and that of your men, my leader is offering a peaceful solution.”
The casualness of the man’s expression shut down. “Surrender.”
Carefully, Lane replied, “Yes.”
Shows of interest from the other Japanese soldiers intensified.
“The area is surrounded by the Allies,” Lane explained. “With your meager resources, you will all soon perish. If you choose to come out, each person will receive rations and clothing. Medical attention will be given to the sick.”
“And what of shame?” A cool challenge. “What remedy can you provide for presenting oneself a coward?”
A baby broke into a liquidy cough, drawing Lane’s attention to the natives. The lives of women and children rested in this conversation. More specifically, in his next reply.
“A coward,” Lane maintained, “doesn’t sacrifice his own worth for the well-being of others. According to the Bushido, the act is a noble one.”
At the reference, the commander’s eyes displayed marginal surprise. The warrior’s ancient code, as detailed by Lane’s father, called for benevolence. Among its other seven virtues were respect and honesty.
“Should you surrender, you will all be treated with the same regard.”
Tension turned the space stifling. Not just from the man’s silence, his unreadable face, but from the thought of the flamethrowers Berlow was apt to send in at any moment.
“I shall leave you in private now, as you have only an hour to consider a great deal.” Lane went to stand, spurring a soldier to lift his pistol. The
s
ch
jerked his chin an inch, a sign to let him go, or permission to shoot.
s
chjerked his chin an inch, a sign to let him go, or permission to shoot.Banking on the former, Lane pivoted around and embarked on the longest walk of his life. The light waiting outside too closely resembled heaven.
He reached the opening and raised his hand, signaling Schober to hold their fire. Before descending, however, Lane braved a final note to the commander. “One day, perhaps we will make sense of this war. But may that day come when we are safely home with our families.”
Still, the
s
ch
said nothing.
s
chsaid nothing.The captain checked his watch. “They got ten minutes,” he warned Lane. The deadline for surrender was rapidly closing in. “They go so much as one minute past, and we get ’em out my way.”
Sweat drenched Lane’s entire shirt. He stared hard into the slanted opening of the cave, willing faces to appear.
Five minutes ...
He glanced at the audience. More Marines had gathered for the impending outcome. A few had taken bets.
Four minutes ...
Come out, damn it
.
.
Three minutes ...
Two ...
“Well, that was lovely,” Captain Berlow said. “Sergeant, let’s do what we should’ve done from the start.”
“Hey, look,” someone yelled. “They’re coming out!”
Lane snapped his head up to find civilians surfacing from the cave. They crawled down one by one, aided by Marines at the base of the slope. Japanese soldiers came out next, hands held high. But no sign of their commander.
Thoughts rushed at Lane in a flurry: the lack of protest his father put up when arrested without grounds; the seemingly docile acceptance of Japanese Americans when ordered from their homes.
All this time, Lane had attributed those actions to a cultural weakness. Yet it wasn’t that they were weak. They were simply willing to do anything, even at the cost of their pride, to avoid a display of shame.
“Got one more, Cap’n,” Schober reported.
At the edge of the cave stood the
s
ch
.
His gaze connected with Lane’s. As it held, the man slowly raised his hand toward his head. The pistol, Lane remembered. It was too far away to see, but he envisioned the man pulling the trigger and diving to his death. An antidote for dishonor.
s
ch.His gaze connected with Lane’s. As it held, the man slowly raised his hand toward his head. The pistol, Lane remembered. It was too far away to see, but he envisioned the man pulling the trigger and diving to his death. An antidote for dishonor.
Lane ran forward to scream,
Nooo!
But the
s
ch
opened his hand. There was no weapon inside. He was merely angling a salute. Then he turned around and started down the mountain.
Nooo!
But the
s
chopened his hand. There was no weapon inside. He was merely angling a salute. Then he turned around and started down the mountain.Other books
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