by Iris Yang
Birch waved his arm, struggling to sit up. “We’re in this prison cell together.” He pulled the hem of Zhou Ming’s uniform, forcing him to back away, and then shifted his focus to the captain. “School Boy is kind to Danny.”
“The war is near its end. He’s trying to find a better way out.”
“Still, not all of them are like him.” Birch’s eyes were weary, but his chin lifted with resolve. “My father has never tortured or mistreated the soldiers he’s captured, even after the deaths of my mom, my sister, my cousin, my aunt, and my uncle.”
Most of the prisoners in the room nodded.
“All agreed?” Danny wanted to make sure.
“Yes,” they chorused.
Reluctantly the captain went along. “I hope you’re not making a mistake. You may end up like the stupid Mr. Dong Guo. Sympathy toward an enemy can be deadly.”
Danny looked puzzled. Born in a missionary family, he’d lived in China for several years when he was a boy. His Chinese was excellent, especially after being friends with Birch for three years. Nevertheless, he had no clue what the captain was talking about. “Who is Mr. Dong Guo?”
“Wait.” Birch lifted his index finger and turned to Captain Zhang. “That’s not a fair comparison. The wolf was never friendly to Mr. Dong Guo, but School Boy has been kind to Danny.”
He turned back to the American. “As you know, we have a lot of sayings in Chinese. Some are based on historical events, others come from fables. You have to learn the stories behind them in order to understand the phrases. In this idiom, Mr. Dong Guo was a gentle scholar. He saved an injured wolf from hunters. But—”
“But as soon as the hunters left, the wolf turned to eat the poor man.” Mr. Ding finished the story.
“The lesson is to never show sympathy or mercy to an enemy. He’ll strike back.”
“I’m not Mr. Dong Guo.” Danny burst into a hearty laugh. “But if we kill School Boy, he’d be the poor man, and I’d be the deceitful wolf. That’s my point.”
Another awkward silence descended on them.
Zhou Ming cleared his throat. “But how can we get out of the compound? Even if we get out of the cell, the place is surrounded by barbed-wire. And don’t forget the watchtower and the machine guns…”
Outside a dog barked. The sound of its howling sent a chill into the gloomy room.
“Not to mention the German shepherds,” Zhou Ming added.
“It won’t be easy. Many will end up dead. But at least we die trying.” Captain Zhang pointed to the left of their cell. “Here, I noticed the wires are in poor shape.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. He was amazed that the captain had paid close attention to the environment and contemplated a prison break.
“Start around midnight.” Captain Zhang ordered. “The darkness is our friend. The bastards might be too sleepy to walk straight or shoot anyone.” One corner of his lips tilted upward in a half smile.
“Where will we go? Just run?” asked Zhou Ming.
“Run like hell. The rest is up to God.”
“We’re northeast of Dashan,” said Birch, pointing to the direction of the town. “Just so you know, we may want to avoid—”
“The town is still under the enemy’s boot,” Danny cut in. “At least that was the case six weeks ago.”
Captain Zhang nodded. “Let the others know. They must be prepared.” He motioned to the other five cells in the small prison. “Whoever takes out the waste bucket today, pass the word around. No sleep tomorrow night. Now, let’s talk details. The more we’re prepared, the better.”
The guerilla leader had that an air of authority. Even here, he liked to be in charge.
Chapter 9
The odds of success were slim. They might all die. But they knew that they must risk everything instead of waiting to be slaughtered.
Most of the prisoners were fighters—Nationalist soldiers, Communist guerrillas, spies, political prisoners, and an American pilot.
Danny knew that his chance of success was compromised by his wounds. They had healed enough to enable him to limp before the beating, but now his wound was covered with congealed blood and pus. He knew he couldn’t run fast enough to get away from the Japanese soldiers that would surely be following hot on their heels, and he was afraid that his infirmity would slow Birch’s progress. He wanted to tell his wingman to go ahead without him, but he knew that Birch would never leave him behind.
As usual, Danny didn’t show his concern. At dinnertime, he nearly gagged on the watery rice. “With every mouthful of this disgusting swill, I crave Xiao Mei’s porridge.”
Birch drank the soupy rice from a canteen cup without looking at it. “She uses chopped pork, chopped chicken, mushrooms, ginger, green onions, and century egg—your favorite!”
“But the first thing I’m going to do when we get out of here is order a big juicy steak!” Hunger had become an unrelenting condition, like a shadow that followed them, and food was their consistent topic. The tall American had lost over thirty pounds during six weeks of captivity.
“How about Nanking Salted Duck?” Birch’s angular face was more defined than ever. His uniform looked baggy over his once-athletic frame.
“Awesome! But my favorite is Roasted Duck.” Danny licked his lips as if savoring the taste. Three years earlier, he’d had this dish for the first time at his birthday party, and Xiao Mei, the housemaid, had prepared the dish whenever the two brothers returned home.
“She told Dad we were like E hu xia shan—Hungry Tigers coming down the mountain.”
“Isn’t that the truth? I bet the nickname will stay with her forever.”
“She was so happy when you raved about her cooking. She—”
“Hey, forget about Mary. You should marry Xiao Mei instead. In this way, we’ll have delicious food for the rest of our lives,” Danny teased. A smug grin turned his mouth up in amusement. Then he looked serious, his eyes focused on Birch. “You know she’s crazy about you, don’t you?”
Although Danny had met the maid only a few times, he liked her. Xiao Mei might not be the most gorgeous girl in the world, but she was sweet and kind. And he’d noticed the way she gazed at Birch. He knew that look—he’d seen the same look from both Jasmine and Daisy when they stared at him.
“Marry Xiao Mei? You’re joking, right? She probably thinks of me as a Big Brother. We’ve known each other almost ten years. She’s like a sister. Even her name says so.” Xiao Mei meant Little Sister. “You of all people,” Birch added, setting the canteen cup down on the floor, “should understand.”
Danny nodded. His mind fogged with the memory of Daisy. Her sweet smile, the admiration in her shiny eyes, the pink scarf gathered around her slender neck. And the sheer terror that appeared on her angelic face as the Japanese soldiers surrounded her. He knew that Daisy had loved him. But to Danny, she was a little girl, and his heart was already taken. Still, she had given her life for him, just like Jasmine. Whenever he thought of the sweet young woman, he felt sad and guilty that he couldn’t love her the same way he’d loved Jasmine. “May I stay in Daisy’s room next time we go home?”
Birch was caught off guard.
“I could smell Jasmine’s scent each time I stayed in her room. I’m afraid I’ll forget...” Complicated emotions squeezed his throat shut.
“Daisy would be honored.” Tears welled in Birch’s eyes.
After dinner, a loud commotion outside the room brought everyone except Danny to the window. Through the space between the boards, Birch watched in horror at the scene unfolding in the courtyard. The sun had already slipped behind the mountains, and the red streaks in the sky looked like blood. In the fading light, a prisoner knelt on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. In front of him, Jackal shouted as he raised a Samurai sword with both hands. “Who is the ringleader? Tell me! I will count to three. One…”
Horrible screams came from the prisoner’s mouth. The blood-curdling sound cut through the twilight like a knife. He was in
his late teens. Fear glazed his wild eyes as he pleaded for his life.
“Two…”
Jackal moved behind the prisoner and steadied himself, his legs spread apart. The sword swished as he took a couple of practice swings.
“I’ve told you everything I know. Please!” The prisoner shrieked at the top of his lungs. Panic twisted his face into a mask of terror.
“Three!” Jackal barked. After pausing for a beat, he raised the sword in a long arc, brought the blade down, and cut off the boy’s head.
The screeching stopped. The head fell onto the ground and rolled a few turns. The body lingered for a moment, suspended in an upright position, and then toppled over.
The courtyard grew quiet. Eerily quiet.
Wincing at the viciousness, Birch felt sorry for the boy and sad for the loss of a young life.
“Goddamned traitor!” Captain Zhang growled as he punched the wall with his fist. Bits of dirt fell off the wall. “Now our plan is down the drain.”
The loathing in the captain’s voice caused Birch to glance at the headless body, and at the ground now damp with fresh blood. Then he turned to the captain. “He was just a kid. He didn’t deserve to die—not this way.”
“But he was a man, a Chinese. At least he was until he lost his balls. Coward!”
Birch understood why the captain hated traitors with such intensity. The Japanese had long ago put a price on his head. For seven years, with the help of ordinary people, the guerilla leader had managed to escape capture. Only a year ago, a traitor, a man in his group, had given him up under torture. Ambushed during his last mission, the Japanese had beaten him relentlessly. To the Japanese, Captain Zhang was a hated and feared man.
Although Birch respected the man’s bravery and his invaluable contribution, he couldn’t agree with his attitude toward the young prisoner. With leaden steps, he walked back from the window, unwilling to argue or look upon the poignant scene again.
Sitting on the floor against the wall, Danny tilted his head and asked, “Someone was killed?”
Birch nodded, still absorbed in his anguish and thought.
“What happened? Captain Zhang looks angry.”
“The Japs learned of our plan. Not sure how it happened. The poor kid is dead.”
“What will they do to us?” asked Danny.
With a sense of premonition, Birch sank to the floor next to Danny. From the way they’d treated the young prisoner, he could not pretend optimism about their future. “We’ll find out soon,” he said solemnly.
Chapter 10
Along with a few of his men, Jackal stormed into the cell. His saber, still dripping blood, was in his right hand. The front of his uniform was stained with red spots. “I know your plan. I know one of you organized it, though I am not sure which one. Too bad I do not have time to find out.” A muscle twitched in his jaw as his flat face twisted with fury. Then his mouth curved in a vicious sneer, as if he’d stumbled upon something amusing. “No problem. I have a better way. To punish your bad behavior, half of you will be executed tomorrow.” Lifting a flattened hand to his throat, he made a slashing gesture.
He counted. Fourteen men. “If fewer than seven step out of the room tomorrow morning when I open the door”—his slanted eyes circled the cell—“everyone will be killed. No questions asked. So fight. Or bet. Do whatever you like. One out of every two in this room will be dead tomorrow. Compete for your chance.”
He burst into a malicious laugh. “The war is about to end: too bad for you.” His laugh tore through the foul air. “Half of you will not see the end of it!”
His smirk vanished as fast as it had appeared. “A pity… You could all have lived had you not planned to escape.” With that, he stalked out. His men followed him. The door banged shut behind them.
“Go to hell!” Captain Zhang yelled, waving his right arm after the Japanese. He spat on the ground, trampling the dirt. “Kill us all, you sick bastard; we’ll die together!”
“No,” said Danny, propped against the wall on the floor, his left leg stretched forward, his right one bent at the knee. “He means business. He will kill us all if we don’t comply.”
“Who’s afraid of death? From the moment we started fighting, we expected it. I’m ready.” Captain Zhang’s eagle eyes panned the room. “No cowards here like that bloody traitor outside. If I find one, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”
“‘None can escape from death since ancient times,’” Mr. Ding quoted a famous saying. His attitude revealed a steadfast fortitude. “It’s an honor to die for our country.”
Zhou Ming butted in, “Remember the song?” He stood up straight and began to sing. Everyone followed him:
Use our flesh and blood.
Lay down our life.
Protect the country from the enemies.
Safeguard the freedom of our people.
We are a team made of iron.
We have brave hearts.
“Are you ready?” rumbled Captain Zhang after they finished singing. He punched his fist high into the air, revealing sweat-stained cloth beneath his armpits.
“Hell, yeah!” everyone shouted, except Danny. A collective determination to laugh in the face of death seized the group.
“Have you heard the Chinese saying, ‘Beheading leaves only a scar as large as a bowl’?” The captain turned his gaze upon the American. His left hand circled his neck, indicating the size. “I’ll be reborn as another warrior in twenty years.” His stern face offered a rare smirk; the long scar on his cheek pulsated and darkened. “And I can’t wait to be born again…as a fighter.”
“No,” Danny spoke up again. Leaning against the mud-brick wall, he tilted his head to face the group. His voice was calm and strong. “This life is important. No one knows for sure about the next one…if there is a next one…We can’t waste an opportunity. Never give up a chance to live. The war is closer and closer to its end. Each day we live is one day closer to surviving this damned war. To be free again. To live a better life!”
He took a breath: “Germany has already surrendered. The Allies are winning. Even Jackal said so. You’ve seen his face. The atomic bomb, whatever that is, scares him. We’re not far from freedom. Don’t give up hope. Don’t talk of death so easily. Half of us may have the chance to live.”
Everyone stared at the American. His different viewpoint took them by surprise. The room grew quiet, and for a few moments not a sound was heard except thunder in the distance. The air was sultry and stale; a storm was sure to come.
Birch was the first one to break the silence. He was sitting next to his brother. “Danny is right.” His voice was as steady as his companion’s had been. “The next life is uncertain, but this life is in our hands. We shouldn’t give up so easily.”
He turned to Captain Zhang who towered over him. “Remember, once you told me, ‘No heroes here, only survivors.’ Well, this is not the time for being a hero or a martyr. We—”
“What right do we have to live at the sacrifice of others? We can’t send our comrades to death,” the guerilla leader retorted, a frown pulling at his lips. He waved his arm, dismissed the argument as if he were shooing away a fly. “No! We can’t sacrifice others to save ourselves.”
“We will not be sending our comrades to death. The Japs are to blame, not us. Don’t let them win so easily.” Birch looked long and hard at the captain before shifting his gaze to the other prisoners. “If half of us live—that’s half a victory.”
“The Japs will think of us as cowards if we let half—”
Using two fingers on each hand as quotation marks, Danny interrupted the captain. “‘He who laughs last, laughs best.’”
“That’s right,” Birch said. “Half of us might laugh at them one day after the war.”
Captain Zhang dropped his head and mulled over the idea for a moment. “So?” He lifted his head, swiveled around, and asked the group.
No one answered. But the slight nods from some showed the consensus.
>
“We don’t even know if Jackal will keep his word,” the captain grumbled, making his last attempt. “He may kill us all tomorrow, anyway.”
“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Danny raised his broad shoulders in a devil-may-care shrug. “What do we have to lose by preparing for it?”
“Danny is right,” Birch said. “Besides, I think Jackal will keep his plan. It’ll be more fun for him to taunt us than to kill us.”
More heads nodded in agreement.
Captain Zhang marched straight over to Zhou Ming, the Nationalist Army officer. “Let’s fight for that chance.” He assumed a combative stance.
Before the Japanese invasion of China, the Communists and the Nationalists were opponents and had fought each other vigorously since 1927. It was only the Japanese attack in 1937 that had brought the two sides together. They were temporary allies facing the same foreign enemy. Now the war against Japan was about to end. What would the two parties do? Who was going to rule the country? A civil war was a real concern in many people’s minds. More than likely, the two sides would become adversaries again.
The other prisoners began to choose their opponents, using more civilized means to determine their fates.
Chapter 11
Danny turned to his wingman, but before he opened his mouth Birch held up his hand to forestall him. “Don’t! Don’t argue with me, Danny.”
“Listen—”
“No, you listen. I’m the Big Brother. Da Ge has the final say. You call me Da Ge. Follow my order!”
“No, Birch. Hear me out—”
“Danny, don’t argue. It’s not negotiable. You’re an American; this is not your war. You’ve done enough. The war is about to end. You can go home soon. So let me do my duty. Allow me to serve my country!”
“You’re my sworn brother. It doesn’t matter whose war or whose duty. What matters is who can survive, who has a better chance to get out of here.” Danny took a deep breath. “Let’s face it,” he pointed to his left leg, “you know I don’t have much chance of walking out of here.”
