Lost in a Foreign Land

by Douglas Anderson

  It had the date from April 23rd. 1942. A few recognizable words leaped from the page. Several articles, most of which he couldn't understand, contained the words; Japan and Japanese, Burma, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He recognized; Yukon and Alaska. Several times Anchorage, Fairbanks, Dawson Creek, and Whitehorse were mentioned. Those names he remembered and he located them on his map. Several other recognizable place names appeared in the news articles too.

  There were also a few grainy photographs of people and one in particular intrigued him. It was of three young men, Asian in appearance, not too much different from himself. He didn't think they were prisoners because they were smiling cheerfully and one was holding a framed plaque. Study as he might he still couldn't fully comprehend the gist of the article that accompanied the pictures.

  Shinichi was bored and was getting cabin fever. He was over his depression and realized he needed to do something more meaningful than sit around the cabin. It was high time he explored the neighborhood. Numerous times each day, and occasionally during the night, he heard vehicles moving on the nearby highway. Two days earlier a number of planes flew overhead. He couldn't see them because of the overcast at the time, but he could tell there were several. They were heading in a westerly direction. One day he heard a different engine sound and he observed a small single-engine plane circling a mile or so away to the south. It eventually departed to the east.

  Today, for a change, there was a clear blue sky. The branches of the trees and shrubs were tinged with frost in the early morning and the air was crisp. From the door of the cabin he could see the snow covered peaks of a magnificent mountain range above the tops of the nearby trees. It seemed like an excellent day to scout around and take a close look at that nearby road.

  He strapped on his 9mm under the jacket and decided also to take the rifle just in case he encountered any wildlife. Maybe there would be an opportunity to bag another rabbit or a bird of some kind to supplement his mundane diet. He was however, reluctant to discharge either firearm closer to the road lest it attracted attention to his whereabouts. He still had no idea if anyone might be residing close by.

  Undoubtedly the trail would lead to the highway so it was the best way to go. It was considerably overgrown—like it had not seen any use for several seasons—but was still quite defined. That big animal obviously used it too because there were little dung pellets in abundance. The trail avoided heavier stands of trees and thickets and followed the dry ground, so it was easy walking. Shinichi walked cautiously, still very much aware of his sore ribs, and constantly checked his surroundings.

  It was really quite a pleasant trail. Deciduous trees still supported a few brilliant yellow and orange leaves which contrasted sharply with the dark evergreens. Some of the lower shrubs were a vivid purple. On those he found a few more blueberries. There were other berries too but he wasn't sure what they were and didn't take any chances.

  Shinichi began to feel a sense of being in tune with this wild land. Under different circumstances it would have been a restful place to spend some time away from the stressful life he had known in recent times. He could not however, forget his country was a war and he was an enemy combatant and might be shot, or at best, arrested if discovered. Those vehicles he was hearing were enemy movements. Or were they? He was determined to find out.

  Right now he didn't feel threatened or sense that he was being hunted. The only thing that might spark a search of this immediate area was if someone spotted his downed aircraft. He reprimanded himself under his breath for not attempting to disguise it in some way. Those round emblems on the wings would be clearly visible and a dead give-away to any aircraft flying over. Could that small plane have been circling the site of the crash?

  It turned out there was less than a half mile of trail. After only ten minutes he had an occasional glimpse of the highway. There goes a vehicle, some kind of military Jeep moving at a fair pace and raising a long rooster-tail of dust. Shinichi leaned the rifle against a tree and moved cautiously closer under cover of the shrubbery.

  Suddenly he heard voices. He froze on the spot, his heart pounding within his aching rib cage. The road was only fifty yards away.

  Creeping closer, he spied two medium sized trucks. They were pulled over to the far side of the road, one behind the other a hundred yards away. He could hear the clanking of metal upon metal. Quietly creeping closer—so he had a clearer view—he could see two men working. They were changing a wheel on the front of the lead vehicle. It must have suffered a flat tire. The road was quite rudimentary, consisting of coarse gravel with a scattering of larger stones and it was not very wide—maybe twenty feet at most. There must be miles and miles of it and it would undoubtedly be very hard on any vehicle. Dusty when dry, as it was now—most likely awfully muddy and slick when wet. As he watched, more vehicles came along. At first he couldn't tell how many because the lead vehicle was stirring so much dust. Eventually he counted six of them pitching and lurching along the uneven road surface.

  They slowed and geared down as they neared the parked vehicles, then proceeded to carefully edge by without stopping. The trucks were all military green with a white star and a number on the door. There was no obvious sign of any weaponry. One vehicle carried a huge bulldozer with a wide blade which made passing all the more difficult. Four of them pulled short, single-axle trailers with a tarpaulin lashed over. Another pulled a trailer with a cylindrical tank on top—a fuel tank. All were caked with mud and dust from the highway. As they moved away, a cloud of fine dust settled over the place where Shinichi was hiding. He was tempted to cough but contained it, tucked his face into his clothing until the air cleared.

  The two men were beginning to stow their tools and preparing to move on. He couldn't hear them very well but heard enough to know they spoke a language that was foreign to his ears. They were both clad in drab military style clothing. Dusty and dirty like everything else in sight.

  Their work finished they mounted their vehicles, started the engines and after a minute moved away down the road. Shifting gears as they went, they disappeared from his view. He could hear them for quite some time then gradually the sound faded and silence fell over the area.

  Shinichi was about to move when he heard another sound. This time it was the drone of aircraft engines. He stayed where he was and waited. Very soon he spotted a group of planes traveling westward at a couple of thousand feet altitude. They all had twin engines but the lead aircraft was larger than the rest. He thought that might be a C-47 but the remaining planes, were just like the one he had attacked – the one that had shot him down—he remembered grimly—Douglas A-20 Havoc's.

  He stood and watched as they passed overhead in a loose formation of two's and threes—he counted them. There were seventeen altogether. Though they were enemy planes, just the sound of so many powerful engines gave him a thrill. Several minutes passed before the sound faded and left him lonely and in silence.

  Shinichi turned, recovered the rifle and retraced his steps slowly back to the cabin. He had such mixed feelings. What could he do to get out of his current predicament? Escape, was the word he used—to find his way home, but how on earth was that possible? Home was so very far away across the Pacific Ocean. He could formulate no credible plan at the moment.

  Chapter Five:

  Discovery on the Highway

  Shinichi had embarked on several exploratory trips to the nearby military road. Each time he explored a little further before returning to the safety of the cabin. He had decided it was safe to walk on the highway because if any vehicles came along he heard them rattling and banging over the uneven road surface long before they came into sight. Whenever vehicles did come, he left the road and hid in the undergrowth until they passed. Only one time had he nearly been caught in the open because the road was crossing a sizable swampy area with nothing but low growth each side. Luckily he made it to a patch of low shrubs in time to duck for cover.

  A mile west from the trail entrance he came up
on a wider section of road where a large amount of gravel had been removed from the bank for road construction. Drivers might take a break there from driving or larger loads could pass each other. When he happened upon this space there was a lone truck parked. Shinichi watched from the cover of the trees. There was no sign of a driver anywhere nearby. He surmised the rig had experienced some mechanical problem and had to be abandoned until it could be repaired or recovered.

  Eventually he plucked up courage to cross the road and cautiously peer inside the cab. Nobody inside, and it wasn't locked, so he searched to see if there was any food. Maybe there would be a map of the highway too? No such luck, the cab was empty except for a few hand tools and some oily rags in a wooden box. He left everything as he found it.

  He untied a corner of the tarpaulin cover on the rear and peered inside. There were several large wooden crates. Sometime, someone must return to retrieve this truck and its load. The truck was facing east, which he found strange, because most of the cargo traffic he had observed was heading westward.

  A plan began to form in Shinichi's mind. He was tempted to dash back to the cabin for a few belongings then return to stow away in the back of the truck among those boxes. He had to relinquish the safety of his temporary home sometime. What could be better than to stow away on a vehicle? Maybe he could find a place to hide and be hauled away to some far away destination. After some thought, he dismissed this idea as foolhardy. Even if he stowed away in there, he might well have to wait for days before someone came to retrieve the truck. What if they brought another truck and proceeded to transfer the cargo? He would be discovered immediately. Where would it take him? No. There had to be some better—some safer—way of getting closer to home.

  The next day he was scouting the highway again—this time to the east—when he heard vehicles a long way off, starting and revving noisily through the gears. They seemed to pulling away from some place where they had been halted. Ten minutes later a convoy of eight large military vehicles passed by his hiding place.

  It set him thinking there must be a military check-point along the road. Something had caused all these vehicles to stop and then start moving again. He decided it was worth exploring further. Again he moved cautiously along the highway, all the time keeping eyes and ears alert for more vehicles. There were none for a while. He was beginning to realize they usually moved in convoys—groups of five or more each time.

  He walked about three miles before having to duck for cover again. This time it was two seemingly empty trucks heading east. They were moving as fast as the uneven road would allow and left a long trail of dust behind before disappearing around a bend. He listened carefully and was rewarded by the sound of them slowing down and shifting gears. They were also stopping for some reason and not very far ahead.

  Shinichi proceeded with extra care. Always ready to duck for cover if the need arose. Cautiously he went until he had a view around the corner. A quarter mile ahead he could see a collection of trucks and some buildings close by the right side of the road.

  This was high, dry land so he took to the trees on the right side of the road to move closer. It was, as he expected, some kind of service station. There was an extensive level gravel pad beside the highway. Several military trucks were parked in a row parallel with the road. Set back about twenty yards were two large cylindrical fuel tanks elevated on pilings. As he watched, two trucks were filling their tanks from a fueling island and two more were waiting in line.

  Set even further back were two large corrugated metal buildings and a smaller wooden building. In the corner nearest his vantage point were four narrow wooden buildings with small windows along the side. These must be bunk houses for the people working here or travelers passing through in need of a place to stay overnight.

  The middle of the three main buildings was a maintenance shop with wide open doors on the front. From his vantage point he could tell there were at least three vehicles inside. He could see a number of workers moving around. Several large dump trucks and trailers were parked at the far end of the gravel pad and there were also two caterpillar tractors. Waiting for maintenance, maybe?

  The building furthest away was also equipped with large doors, but they were closed. Perhaps that was a storage building. As he watched a man came out a small door near the front corner and carried a heavy object into the maintenance shop—possibly a spare part for a vehicle.

  Shinichi was still thinking like a navy pilot. What a worthwhile target this would have made for his bombs. He could picture those fuel tanks exploding in a huge ball of fire. There was absolutely no sign of any anti-aircraft defenses. In a surprise attack he and his partner could have wrought total destruction upon this undefended place.

  The closest, smaller, building interested him greatly because people were constantly entering through one door and exiting from another. From his hiding place he could see a dozen men milling around in front drinking from large mugs, and more people sat at some wooden tables nearby. He could hear chatter and occasional raucous laughter. This one must be a kitchen facility serving food to the truck drivers and others working at the base. Some of the people within sight were in drab military attire. Others wore a variety of civilian clothes. Many didn't look much different to Shinichi himself.

  A plan began to creep into his mind. There were so many people milling around here. It was obvious many of them would not know each other. Trucks were constantly coming and going with strangers on board. Could he pass unnoticed amongst them if he was dressed much the same and looked like some of those he observed?

  The more he watched, the more convinced he was that he might be served some food if he went into that hut. The only problem was that he didn't speak the same language. Could he get by without having to speak to anyone?

  As he was watching he saw a man exit the closest building and walk over to one of the refueled trucks. He passed another man going the opposite way and casually raised a hand and said; “Hi.” He was carrying a brown paper sack and a bottle. It must be a supply of food and drink for his journey. Shinichi watched as he climbed into the nearest of the refueled trucks—which he noticed was not loaded—started the engine and drove away to the east in a cloud of dust.

  Now there was a word Shinichi recognized. In Japan, Hai means; YES. Do these people greet each other with, Hai? If necessary he could easily say that. How he would have liked to get hold of that sack of food.

  Shinichi was in no hurry. He felt safe and unseen where he was, so he sat quietly in his hiding place—stomach rumbling, and observed the activity for a couple of hours. One thing he noticed was that many of the trucks were not military, and some had names painted on the doors. They must belong to companies contracted to carry supplies to Alaska. So, he surmised, even more evidence that many of the drivers would not know each other.

  The more he watched the more he convinced himself that he could blend in without being challenged and, at the very least, obtain a meal. He just had to be bold, and yet casual, as if he was passing through like so many other strangers. He was reassured too because nobody seemed to be armed. He hadn't seen a single firearm. A few people wore a sheathed knife at their waist. It was almost as if there was no war being fought.

  But this was not for today. For one thing, he was not quite dressed correctly. He needed to return to the cabin and prepare himself a little better if he was going to attempt this.

  He backed carefully into the cover of the trees and made his way back to the cabin. Stopping only to recover the rifle from where he always stashed it near the trail entrance.

  Chapter Six:

  Taking a Big Risk

  Fired with his idea of infiltrating the base down the road, Shinichi hardly slept that night. He tossed and turned fitfully on the bunk and all sorts of things muddled through his mind. He was glad when it began to get light and he could start with his preparations.

  Priority one was to have some breakfast. There was still sufficient flour and beans but he was g
etting fed-up with the same bland food every day; Beans, flour and salt with a little water, or flour and crushed beans made into pancakes with precious few blueberries adding some flavor. There was no oil in his diet and no greens of any kind except for a few dandelion leaves. He had bagged a second rabbit—not as large as the first one—but it was a welcome change. He had set several of the wire snares on the animal trails near the cabin but had caught nothing. How long could a person live on such spartan food, even with an occasional rabbit, before getting sick?

  After breakfast he pulled all the clothes from the wooden chest and laid them out so he could choose the best “disguise.” It was no good wearing his fleece lined boots and flotation vest. He had seen no one wearing anything of that nature and neither were they necessary with the current moderate weather. During wintry weather the boots might pass and even the flying suit with a normal jacket over the top, but not now. Most of the people in civilian clothes wore a heavy woolen shirt. A few had on a plain jacket—not unlike the one from the chest—canvass trousers and leather boots. Almost everyone wore a brimmed hat or a cap.

  He held a dress rehearsal: The plain brown wool shirt was the smaller of the two. One pair of trousers was made of medium weight twill material. Not bad, a bit loose fitting but the right length of leg. The leather belt he was already wearing had been too long for his slim waist so he had already cut it to length and drilled some extra holes with the point of his knife. Now he thoughtfully roughed the fresh cut end and rubbed soot from the stove on it to give it an aged appearance. The brown wool jacket fitted loosely on top. How about the boots? Well, he had already worn the lace-up leather boots for several days and they were passable with thick wool socks filling space inside.

  Lacking a large enough mirror he did his best to appraise himself and the unfamiliar outfit. He went in a bit of a panic because there was no hat. His dark hair with short military haircut was a dead give-away although it had already grown a little and was now not quite so sharp. A hat would be an essential item for his disguise. He studied his flying helmet with the insignia on the front; leather outside, fleece lining inside, flaps each side to cover the ears and enclose the radio head set. In its present form it would attract attention for sure. He took his knife and very carefully trimmed off the side flaps and removed the insignia. Now it looked more normal. He roughed it and dirtied it too so it was a uniform color. The result was not at all bad.