Dragon of the Mangrooves (23 page)

From the outset, they were fighting a tough war. He could accept death by any bullet. No doubt, it was a death in battle. He could call it even glorious, so long as a warrior met his end in a battle. He could accept death from disease: malaria, dengue fever, amebic dysentery, or jungle rot. Almost all were nearly unavoidable. They had trodden on this tropical land of miasma with full aware-ness of these from the outset. Hygiene was bad, and medicine was poor. What they could do was limited in this situation. It was the grim reality here.

These men, lying in wait to be picked at by vultures, had fallen prey to crocodiles. What kind of death is that? Man is the lord of creation; he was taught so.

They were said to be the subjects of the indestructible land of gods. Each is a dear son, a sweet lover, or a breadwinning father back in the homeland. And yet, they met their ends in the teeth of those scaly reptiles, and will be pecked by the company of birds of prey. Sumi had no idea how he could accept it.

And he probably wasn’t the only one. None of the victims had probably ever dreamed he would meet his end that way. They all died without the least bit of time to consider or accept this fate.

If people plunge into the creek where ferocious carnivores are roaming around in groups, such a result is almost inevitable. Why did nobody realize it? What the hell was HQ thinking?

After all, it ordered that reckless operation without the slightest research on crocodiles. It wasn’t only crocodiles; the same with mangroves, Burmese culture, and climate. Had anything been well researched in advance? They had scorned British-Indian forces as no more than humble colony guards. That underestimate

invited this hard reality. In the end, they found themselves driven into a place almost outside the human world—and devoured by crocodiles.

There exist many hells never foreseeable for the haughty brass under camp curtains. This time, once again, the lives of the rank and file were simply thrown into one of the hells.

“Why do we repeat such absurdities over and over?” Sumi asked himself.

Sumi didn’t know where he should direct the brunt of his anger. Should it be at the regiment commander, the division commander, or the Imperial HQ? He didn’t even have the foggiest idea who was the most responsible.

The water washing his feet drained into Myinkhon Creek. And Myinkhon

Creek drained into the Bay of Bengal. And the Bay of Bengal opened into vast-nesses of the Indian Ocean. Then the water changed into rain and came down at his feet again. Reminded of such an endless chain, Sumi became further confused. But he understood one thing for certain.

Crocodiles were said to be the vassals of Sebek, the ancient deity. Egyptian civilization was out of his field of specialty. Sebek, the crocodile-headed deity, hadn’t rung a bell.

But now he understood it clearly. To be thrown into a group of crocodiles was war itself. Sebek came and went freely between this world and the next, and governed the night and the darkness. And that’s not all. It also governed wars that engulf humanity. Sebek was the god of war.

A determination struck him, and Sumi called Sergeant Shimizu. “Come on over, Sarge.”

Shimizu exited the elongated column behind Sumi, looking uncertain about this sudden call. Sumi handed the worn-out map to him and said, “With this, you can guide the troop to Uga, can’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Shimizu asked back.

“You can make it unobserved if you go along the foothills. We don’t look like soldiers anymore. Even if enemies spot you, they can’t see through your disguise very easily. And you can even fight if push comes to shove. Mediocre enemies can’t beat your men to a pulp as long as you command.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Now I leave this rescue party to your command. Let the fleet leave port as soon as you arrive at Uga. Don’t worry about what happens after you leave here.

Make Taungup, no matter what. You can do it!” Sumi said and saw Shimizu become dumbfounded.

“What do you mean I can do it? What the hell are you talking about? What will you do?” Shimizu asked.

“I will remain here to keep rescuing. First of all, I will go to Hill 604 to search for strays there,” answered Sumi.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“What will you do for boats then, if you can find any?”

“You saw all those local fishing boats in Uga, didn’t you? I’ll requisition those.

Or I’ll let guys make rafts, even if I can’t. These men are too few for me, in any case. I’m the head of this rescue troop. It doesn’t make sense for me to leave without saving more.”

“It’s you who doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t you see that it’s a drop in a bucket?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why are you saying this out of the blue?”

“Because many soldiers are probably still hiding in the mountains. I’ll ferret them out, wherever they are, and take them to the continent.”

“All right, I will remain with you. No way I’m going to leave you alone.”

“No! Don’t do that. Some of these men will surely die unless they get to a hospital, you know? I’m asking you to take them back with you first.”

“Then you’d better come with us all. How much do you think you can do alone here?” said Shimizu, looking bewildered. He seemed unable to gauge this sudden change in his ever-cowardly commander.

“Murakami was shot and killed,” continued Sumi.

“I know that.”

“Guys here were killed and eaten by crocs!”

“Then what?”

Their exchange of sharp words had tensed up members of the rescue party behind the two. It wasn’t unusual for them to hear arguments between their platoon commander and squad leader. But they had never witnessed a grave one like this.

“Many guys hiding in the mountains haven’t been shot by Engli and haven’t been injured by crocs.”

“Are you going to try to save all of them? You’ll never finish it.”

“Take the guys we picked up back to the continent. I’m just going to pick up as many more as possible. It’s a general plan. Somebody has to remain here to do this. I’m the commander, and I have information given by the infantry regiment. There is no end unless I go myself.”

“No, I oppose it. You’ll never finish it. What you have to do is go back to Taungup without making a fuss. We’ve done our duty.” Now even Shimizu, the active and bold veteran, wanted to leave. It was rare, but natural. Slowly Sumi opened his mouth, staring at Shimizu, whose usual vitality had gotten lost somewhere.

“Enough of your nagging. Do you disobey my order here once again? Huh?”

Shimizu glared back at him, but the hostile exchange soon ended. Shimizu withdrew first. He might have read the firm resolution of his commander, and his reply carried some mildness. “All right, Lieutenant. But I feel still uneasy about leaving you alone. You should take Takahashi, your batman, with you, though it’s no use saying it now. Hey, Pondgi! Come here right now!”

Pondgi stepped forward, smiling.

Shimizu said to him, “Take care of the lieutenant from now on. Have you got it, Pondgi?”

“Yes, Master Shimizu.”

Just behind Pondgi, Yoshitake stuck his head out and presented his Sten gun to Sumi. “Please, carry this if you go, Lieutenant. It’s the best I can do.”

“What will you do for your weapon? No way I’m going to leave our best crack shot unarmed,” Sumi said.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve found a guy with a model ninety-six light machine gun among those battered infantrymen chased into the trees. I’m going to borrow it from him.”

Yoshitake was good at shooting a light machine gun, as well. His sturdy body enabled him to fire it from the hip. Assured of that, Sumi slung the Sten gun over his shoulder. Then he thrust the magazines into his haversack. The gun was far more dependable than his pistol.

“Thanks, Yoshitake. I will never use this lightly,” Sumi said. Then he drew a deep breath and stared at the faces of the soldiers standing in front of him, one by one. Though it had been a short time, he knew he had shared in troubles with all these men staring back at him.

“Well done, everybody! Now you are to go back to Taungup as instructed by Sergeant Shimizu. Be sure to take care of the injured.”

No one said anything. They had heard the argument, so each face portrayed a mixture of loneliness and uneasiness. Sumi couldn’t tell whether their concern was limited to their own fates, or if it gratefully included their commander. But he was satisfied enough. He thought they’d better worry only for their own safe return. Pondgi stood beside him with his rifle over his shoulder. Apparently this man was heading for the mountains immediately. Sumi was about to take a step toward the continuing adventure of his own.

Suddenly Shimizu ordered the troop to fall in. He probably realized he would never see Sumi again; this time, his expression was warm for the first time. “To Second Lieutenant Yoshihisa Sumi, our Second Platoon commander of Tankette Fifth Company, salute!”

When he returned the salute, Sumi felt an intensely stinging pain of parting welling up inside his heart.

Sumi and Pondgi came out of the mangroves at last and made it to a place that seemed like one of the dried-up rice paddies, southeast of Yanthitgyi, that they had passed the previous night. Sumi still heard the drone of enemy planes at times overhead, but he noticed the roars of cannons had died out. Likely, there was no position worthy to bomb anymore. He thought the systematized resistance of the garrison had drawn to an end.

But neither Sumi nor Pondgi had the courage to walk in the middle of open fields yet, even though the fighting waned. They made their way in forests of nipa palm and bamboo thickets, hemming the rice paddies carefully.

Before long, they spotted private houses and sheds among the paddies. Sumi could tell it was the settlement of Yanthitgyi, or maybe one of its outlying communities. He no longer had a map, but he had already carved the shape of Hill 604 in his memory the day before. Now in front of him, its ridgeline stood out unmistakably against the blue sky. He needed to cut through the paddies to approach the foot of it.

“Where are those Japan Masters walking around now?” Pondgi murmured.

Sumi answered, “Well, I don’t know, but it’s the way we’ve once passed. They may get to some neighborhoods of Ramree Town tonight if they’re lucky.”

The rescue party, now under Shimizu, had a long haul to cover nearly forty kilometers to bypass the town and get to Uga. But Shimizu was a trained NCO and able to cope with it. Sumi was confident that his men would be all right as long as he led the troop.

Sumi hid himself in a bamboo thicket and kept a watchful eye on each house in the settlement. He could see people living in some of them; locals might have taken advantage of this rare interval between the horrors of war. But overall, the area remained quiet. He took it as an opportunity to cross the open field, where he found a white pagoda standing at the edge of the settlement. It had a slope leading to Hill 604 behind it. Using it as a guidepost, he turned back to Pondgi.

His lungi suited Pondgi’s slick, dark skin well. It was natural as he was genu-ine Burmese. Sumi couldn’t take Pondgi along anymore. Everything from here was a Japanese problem.

“Pondgi.”

“Yes?”

“Now, listen to me. You’ve served our armed forces well. I appreciate it very much.”

“Not at all.”

“This island is full of Engli now. If they catch you and find you joining with Japan Masters, they may kill you.”

“I’m BNA. I knew that from the beginning.”

“We lost this war. We said we would chase the Engli off and make Burma independent, but we’ve lost badly. All we did make in the end was a mess. We can’t help the Burmese make a prosperous, independent country anymore. On second thought, I wonder if we really intended to do that from the first. If so, I have to apologize to you.”

Pondgi kept silent.

“All the Japanese Army will probably pull back from Arakan in a short time. Go back to Sandoway, your hometown, now. Don’t see any Japan Masters again.

Engli will come soon. Tell them Jap is your enemy, and that you’ve never worked among the Jap if they catch you.” Sumi took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry to have driven you hard so many times. Forgive me.”

Pondgi said quietly, “No one can help it, because it’s a war. Buddha knows everything. We have a limit in our wisdom whether we are Engli, Japanese, or Burmese. We are repeating the same thing from a long time ago, so don’t worry about it.”

His nickname wasn’t for nothing. Sumi was surprised to hear this, and wondered whether a real Buddhist monk had his wisdom.

Pondgi had probably kept this insight and resignation to himself while acting with the Japanese Army. With compassion, he had long since forgiven those fussy intruders.

Sumi asked quietly, “Do you have a custom of parting gifts, Pondgi?”

“Tokens for journeys?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’m giving you the rifle you hold now. It’s a parting gift from me. No, it’s from the Imperial Army. Though it’s beaten up, a rifle is valuable in this country now. Protect yourself with it just in case.”

Pondgi rummaged his rucksack and presented him with a new white shirt, folded up neatly.

“Then I give you this.”

Compared with Sumi’s shirt, almost nearing a rag, its snow-white color was so bright that it dazzled him. He gave thanks and put it on promptly. Then he felt even his mind was cleaned and bleached, and remembered that most Japanese shrouds were white. White is the wear of dead, the wear of samurai ready to die.

“Don’t do hara-kiri, Master Sumi,” said Pondgi.

Sumi grinned a little. The time to part was now upon him.

“Of course, I won’t. Samurai never commit it so easily,” Sumi said, but he couldn’t explain to himself why he somehow took it as well as he did. “Good-bye, Pondgi. Look after yourself.”

Sumi bent forward and walked alone in a dry irrigation ditch under the sky dyed in deep blue, which was peculiar to the tropics. Fallow fields spread on both sides.

Twitters of wild birds surrounded him wherever he went. Dead grass over the fields offered the birds many good nesting sites. This country was originally rich with birds. They flourished, especially during the dry season when migrants flew to winter here. He stopped to listen for a while.