Dragon of the Mangrooves (14 page)

Tomita hung his head and sighed. Patting Kasuga’s shoulder, he agilely jumped out of the foxhole and vanished into the nearby jungle.

Kasuga resumed hulling rice and ruminated over the conversation. Tomita, as an NCO, knew more than most. It was probably true that the evacuation to the continent was going on. But Kasuga wondered what an army could do when they plunged into the sea without boats. He had never seen Myinkhon Creek. He couldn’t guess whether wading was easily possible without knowing how deep and wide the creek was.

“Hey, Kasu. Prepare for mobilization. Hull your rice later.”

He looked up and saw Tomita again. It hadn’t been more than five minutes since he had left. It seemed an emergency had arisen.

Kasuga hastily gathered his equipment. Scraping up his only three grenades, he ran after Tomita.

Tada and Kayama were already waiting for them at the hem of the jungle.

Tomita Squad assembled in full force after a four-day interval. Tomita started a briefing in a more formal tone than usual.

“First Lieutenant Kishimoto, the Fifth Company commander, has been missing in action since he went reconnoitering Myinkhon Creek a few days ago.

From now until tomorrow at daybreak, we are to set out in search of him. However, we have no hope during the night. So we must find him before dark.” It was nearly four o’clock, so not so much time was left until sunset.

“How are the enemy’s movements in Myinkhon Creek?” Kasuga asked. He couldn’t restrain his uneasiness.

“There is no potent enemy around. But we may encounter gunboats patrolling creeks. All of you must look out for them.”

“Why do we HMG men have to search for the rifle company commander?

What is the command section of Fifth Company doing now?” Kayama inquired.

This spectacled, fat soldier was always candid.

Tada added, “This is the responsibility of Sixth Company in the first place, isn’t it? Those riflemen of Sixth should go first.”

As privates, their objections went unheeded. But they all knew they could be forced to wander through totally unknown mangroves all through the night.

“Shut up!” Tomita shouted. But somehow his eyes showed pleasure rather than anger. “Here is special news for your ears only. Don’t tell anyone else,”

Tomita whispered, which made the others lean forward. “Our troops will escape from the island within a couple of days.”

Kasuga watched Tada and Kayama open their mouths in unison. He wasn’t certain if they were merely surprised or delighted.

Tomita continued, “However, Sixth Company won’t take part in this withdrawal operation. Those simpletons nicely say they’ll stay behind and build up a guerilla front. We’ve known them for a long time. If things go wrong, they may keep us with them on this damned island. So it’s far better for us to stick with the Fifth, isn’t it? The company commander himself has gone recon. Of course, guys of the command section are making a frantic search for him now. Let’s help them and curry their favor.”

“Huh?” said Kayama, with a puzzled look.

“How many years have you worked under Binchoku? You might follow the example of that shit-face. Even if we can’t find him, at least we will know what route we should take.”

Tomita Squad set out quietly. Kasuga and the others descended a gentle slope in the jungle and came across a dense bamboo thicket. Now they stood at the foot of Yanthitgyi Hill 604.

Kasuga picked one of the grenades from his belt and checked its safety pin.

Then he dangled it from his neck to be able to throw it fast, in case of emergency.

Although Tomita said no enemies were there, some reconnaissance patrols might have advanced while they had stagnated in Yanthitgyi. He needed to keep his eyes wide open.

Originally, no rifles had been issued to them. Having lost the machine gun, they were now next to totally unarmed. Tada, the man with a sure nose for everything, had gotten his hands on a model thirty-eight 6.5-millimeter rifle from somewhere—maybe he hunted for it among the war dead. However, to see the rifle so smeared with mud and rust, everyone believed it ready for the scrap heap.

It did not look trustworthy. Other than that, only Tomita, the squad leader, had a government-issued semiautomatic pistol. Those were all of guns they had. And Kasuga had nothing but his three grenades.

Palm trees appeared in the bamboo thicket. When Kasuga realized, they were walking in the middle of a vast community of nipa palm. It might be a hinterland of mangrove. The air around them was damp, indicating that the sea was close.

Kasuga lost his breath many times. It was all he could do to keep up with the queue. They had thrown out their broken ninety-two HMG in Mountain Maeda when they had evacuated there. Kasuga had been released from the toil of the machine gun conveyance ever since. However, getting rid of the pain was another matter. Malaria, which he had developed on this island, might be attacking him again; he felt feverish. Even his steps were faltering now.

Salt-tolerant trees replaced the nipa palm which had hindered their trek with its sharp-edged leaves. The odor of the sea drifted toward them. They had apparently broken into the mangrove at last.

Big evergreen trees grew as far as Kasuga’s eyes could see. Each was supported by many prominent roots rising up from the ground. Layer upon layer of interwoven branches shut out almost all sunlight. It was quite a dark and damp place.

Innumerable vertical roots, like bamboo shoots, protruded from the mud of the ground, which turned into the bottom of a sea when the tide was high. It was hard to find a spot to step on next.

It reminded Kasuga of the land of the dead at first sight. But the natural vitality hanging over the area was dense and strong. Birdcalls mixed with the rustles of leaves in the breeze. On the ground, brightly colored crabs ran hurriedly, and sometimes mudskippers romped among them. Every so often, he saw a small snake of black and yellow coil around a branch decorated with glossy, thick leaves. Since it might be poisonous, Kasuga tensed up every time he had to pass one. But the most annoying nuisance was a large swarm of mosquitoes. They rushed not only to his exposed skin, but also into his mouth, nostrils, and ears.

Kasuga toppled over many times in the mud. He was completely terrorized to think that the safety of his grenade might come off by the force of impact.

This place was almost the far end of the earth. It was not likely that the enemy could advance in such an area. He couldn’t imagine a more inappropriate place for a war than this. He tucked the grenades into his haversack.

He continued to trip and slip on countless entangled roots and in soft bottom-less mud. Each time it consumed what little he had left of his physical power.

Even worse, the wound from the mortar shell in the Battle of Mountain

Maeda might have opened again. Kasuga found blood staining the new bandage he had wrapped around his right thigh that morning. The iron blade inside his flesh grated every time he took a step.

If he went on like this, he would run the risk of getting lost. He knew he must hold on until he could get treatment in a decent hospital in Taungup or Rangoon. Dropping out of the line would mean death when the troops evacuated the island. He kept walking on, breaking into a sweat.

Gradually, the water exuding from the mud increased and covered the whole ground with a murky liquid sufficient to reach their ankles. The odor of the sea became stronger, as well.

The trail they were walking on had turned into a creek threading through the woods. The water level often reached to Kasuga’s hip, and it irritated the gash of his shrapnel wound mercilessly. Every step he made betrayed him, causing him to sink deep into the mud. It got hard even for him to pull his foot up.

He didn’t have his own watch and couldn’t trace the setting of the sun under the thick green canopy, under which it was always dark, even during the day.

They had gone down Yanthitgyi Hill 604 about an hour before, though Kasuga wasn’t sure of the exact time. They had been walking in the damp areas ever since. Tomita, who had kept his pace without a hitch ahead of them, abruptly stopped in the middle of intertwining branches and pointed forward. “Maybe Myinkhon Creek is over there, men.”

Through the overlapping layers of greenery, Kasuga, Tada, and Kayama found a conspicuously broad creek. Everyone ran to the edge to get a better look.

About three hundred meters wide, muddy water flowed by slowly in front of their eyes. The opposite side seemed to be an unbroken belt of mangrove. Far above, they could see many peaks of the Arakan Mountains against the glorious orange sky. It was the mainland of Burma. It extended all the way to China and to their homeland further beyond.

Kasuga heard Kayama murmuring, “I want to go home.”

Tomita was reading the map. Kasuga was surprised to see that the map was no more than a shoddy sheet of straw paper, on which some wriggling lines had been scribbled with a pencil. Relying upon such a map, Tomita had broken through the maze of mangroves. Kasuga had a new admiration for his superb skill. Just then, Tomita raised his head and uttered a sharp alarm. “Leave the edge at once! An enemy is coming!”

The four immediately scurried back into the mangrove, almost a knee-jerk reaction. Pressing against the entangled roots of a big tree, Kasuga peered over his shoulder at the creek. The low-pitched hum of exhaust reached his ears, a gunboat appeared from his right, and the cleaved wave washed his legs.

It was a ragged barge, willy-nilly equipped with a field gun rather than a gunboat. It made everyone skeptical about the real state of the Royal Navy—supposedly matchless in the world, but even this barge was threatening for the Japanese Army now. A machine gun was installed on the side, and a white sailor was standing behind the gun. Clearly, enemies were ready to check any crossing operations planned by Japanese forces.

“It’s too bad. We can’t roam around during the day,” Tomita grumbled to himself while he watched the gunboat going north on Myinkhon Creek.

Kasuga also expressed his anxiety. “This creek is too wide, Sarge. Can we really wade across?”

“Of course not! Didn’t you watch the enemy boat sail through? Your feet can’t touch the bottom, you moron!” an irritated Tomita snapped at him.

“Why am I a moron? You said earlier we could wade across this creek,” Kasuga responded.

“I can’t help it. That’s what I was told. I’m surprised to see this too.”

“Maybe the tide is in the middle now, so it’s deep enough for some boats to sail. But it may get more shallow at the ebb.”

“Pinhead! How can we wade through this broad creek in the daylight? That battered barge isn’t the only enemy we have to cope with. What do you do if aircraft come hunting for us when we’re tottering in the water?”

“Then what will we do? Do we have to swim across at night? I’m not confident I can swim that far.”

“Neither am I! I’m not a competitive swimmer. But, listen, what else can we do now? I don’t know how many boats Garrison HQ has. But I don’t think it has enough to allocate some to us. There’s no way but to make a raft or something and cross this damn water with it.”

Kasuga fell silent. He didn’t have a counterargument and knew nothing could be done even if he had.

Something inside made him yearn to go home. He had made up his mind to sacrifice his life for the empire more than once. However, his firm resolution flickered with seeing the route before his very eyes.

“I don’t think the company commander has crossed the creek,” Tomita said.

“He must be here somewhere if he’s still wandering. Now split up and search for him.”

A desert island called Leikdaung lay in front of them, like it had been pushed out from the opposite bank. They set that as their common landmark and arranged the time, place, and password for assembling. Then Tomita Squad separated into two parties.

Kasuga set out searching the western area with Tomita. Bathed in the setting sun, the mountains of Arakan were dyed red.

The mangrove extended indefinitely in front of his eyes. The once-clamorous birdcalls suddenly faded away as dusk fell. But there was still no change in the strange vitality permeating their surroundings.

Abruptly, one of the overhead branches creaked. Startled, Kasuga stopped. He strained his eyes and found a stout branch nodding. Something was moving from one tree to another.

“Oh, it’s a monkey. Probably a crab-eating macaque hunting for food,” whispered Tomita, ahead of Kasuga.

The branch just above Kasuga wasn’t the only one nodding. Many boughs and branches swayed here and there. He heard each creak, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the animal, however hard he might try to find it. The treetops, which protected them from the eyes of airborne enemies, were melting into the darkness. The whole area was turning into the world of nocturnal animals, which put him on guard.

Alarm welled up deep inside. The flowing water had already reached Kasuga’s shins, and he sensed something touching his anklebone. He looked down to see a black metallic box floating near his leg.

It was a mess kit made of aluminum—unmistakably one issued by the Japanese government. Judging from its square design and good finish, it might be for an officer’s use. He immediately remembered First Lieutenant Kishimoto, for whom they were searching.

“Isn’t this his mess kit?” Kasuga asked himself as he picked it up excitedly and called out to Tomita, “Sarge! I found a mess kit!”

A big tree towered about ten meters to his left. Standing beside it, Tomita was staring at something at its base. His profile looked frozen.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Kasuga.

Tomita looked back and slowly pointed down at a spot.

Silt was exposed around the roots of the tree. Kasuga’s eyes focused on an elongated item laying there.

It was a human left leg amputated at the groin. Looking like it had soaked in water for a long time, it was grotesquely whitened, clubbed, and swollen. But there was no conspicuous rot. Kasuga could tell that the leg hadn’t been laying there for long after it had been severed from a body.

He had seen amputated human limbs many times even before the Battle of Ramree broke out. He wasn’t in the mental state in which every sight struck terror in his heart anymore. But the sight of the leg came too abruptly to accept.