Red Randall at Pearl Harbor

by R. Sidney Bowen

  “The plane?” he echoed. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Nothing, if you do not make it necessary!” the Jap replied, and gestured with both the gun and the knife he still held in his two hands. “Pick him up, and carry him over to the plane!”

  Red Randall wanted to ask questions. In fact, he wanted to do most anything that would gain him precious time. This was all so unreal, so utterly impossible, that he felt sure it could not last. It was a nightmare! Yes, that’s what it was. A mad, crazy nightmare, and pretty soon he’d wake up and everything would be all right.

  However, it was not a nightmare. It was cold, horrible reality. And, as Kato Harada made a gesture at him with the gleaming knife, Red gathered Jimmy Joyce in his arms and staggered up onto his feet. Joyce was no lightweight, and that plus the weakness in Red’s knees made the fifty-yard trip over to the waiting Fairchild a journey of torture. His heart hammered against his ribs, and the blood pounded in his brain. Three times he stumbled and almost fell, but each time he managed to keep his feet and go lurching and reeling forward. Cold terror had him by the throat, and it was agony to breathe. When he finally reached the side of the Fairchild, a red haze filmed his eyes and pinwheels of gold were spinning around all over the place.

  Yet, despite all that, he still had the strength left to ease Jimmy Joyce gently downward feet first to the ground, and then let Jimmy’s body lean against his own. It was then that he saw Joyce’s eyes flutter open, saw the youth stare wildly around, and heard his faltering words.

  “What happened? Something hit me, and… Hey! I can’t move my arms or my legs! Hey!”

  Before Red could say anything Kato Harada glided in close and fixed his cruel eyes on Jimmy Joyce’s face.

  “You are lucky even to be breathing, foolish one!” he spat out. “Be silent, and I will permit you to go on breathing.”

  “Who are you?” Joyce blurted out, and struggled to get his hands free. “Who are you, anyway? And what’s the big idea? Hey, Randall! What’s going...”

  Smack!

  The flat of Harada’s hand caught Jimmy Joyce a ringing blow on the side of his face. Red saw it coming and tried to jerk Jimmy to one side. He was a bit too late however, and he had to shift his feet quickly to stop both of them from going down in a heap. His eyes burned with rage, and hot words rushed to his lips. He did not speak them, however. In the nick of time cold common sense returned. Kato Harada was standing straddle-legged just in front of him, and waiting almost gleefully for him to say something so that he could be dealt out another and perhaps much worse dose of punishment.

  “So, that is better!” Harada finally broke the tingling silence. “We Japanese have much to teach you American dogs. It is your good fortune that you learn fast. Now, sit on the ground and take him with you. Ah, yes, he will not need these, of course.”

  Like a striking cobra Harada’s hand streaked out and snatched off Jimmy Joyce’s helmet and goggles. And then to the boy’s further amazement, Harada jumped onto the Fairchild’s wing and pulled out Red’s own parachute pack. Backing up a safe distance, the Japanese placed his gun on the ground where he could grab it up if either of the Americans so much as batted an eyelash, and slipped into the parachute harness. It was too big for him, and he had to fiddle with the strap buckles before he got it to fit. He did it by feel of the fingers alone, however, for not once did he take his glittering cruel eyes off Red’s face. When he had the parachute harness adjusted to his satisfaction, he picked up his gun and moved closer to the plane.

  The Japanese was smiling now, but his smile was just about as pleasant as the smile on the face of a gorilla. He still held his automatic in his hand, but his needle-pointed knife had disappeared from view. Red wondered if it was stuck inside the open-necked rough shirt the man was wearing. However, he didn’t wonder about that for long. Kato Harada had started speaking to him again in his rasping whisper that was like saw-teeth dragging across Randall’s taut nerves.

  “Listen to me carefully,” he said, “and perhaps you and your little friend will live to be old men. Japan’s hour has come. Today we have struck the first of many blows. You are but a youth, I know, but it is well for you to be taught such things, just as your elders will be taught. Your Pearl Harbor and your fleet based there are no more! They are myths now. It is the same with your airfields and your airplanes. We planned well, and we have struck true and sure. Hear those sounds? Those are your once mighty battleships blowing up in Pearl Harbor. Not one of them will ever sail again. By midnight tonight all of your beautiful Hawaiian Islands will belong to the Emperor of Japan. It is well for you to know that now and to understand.”

  The Japanese paused for breath, or perhaps for the effect upon his audience. At any rate he paused and let his eyes burn into Randall’s face.

  But Red hardly noticed that he had stopped talking. He had heard enough of the devil’s words to know that the end of the world had come. The fleet sunk in Pearl Harbor? The Island airfields blasted, and those rows of combat planes and bombers and scouts, scattered all over the place in heaps of blackened wreckage? Was it true, what this Japanese murderer told him? Were the sounds he could hear now, all that roar and thunder, the result of a sneak attack by the Japanese? Under Japanese rule by midnight tonight? Nothing...nothing left for defense? The crafty, blood-thirsty enemy had wiped out everything?

  Questions, more questions, and still more questions whirled and spun around unanswered in Red Randall’s throbbing brain. He was crazy to let them bother him, though. It was madness to believe that all Kato Harada had said could happen. It just couldn’t! You just didn’t wipe out the great fleet anchored in Pearl Harbor, and all the airfield and the planes, just like that. This Harada was mad, insane, completely nuts! And...but what was he to do now?

  That last question brought Randall’s attention back to cold, hard reality. Why did the Japanese slug Jimmy Joyce and have him bound hand and foot with wire? And why did the man take Joyce’s helmet and goggles and climb into Randall’s parachute harness? Was Harada a pilot and going to steal the Fairchild? But...what could he plan to do now?

  “Yes, today is the greatest day in the history of the Japanese Empire!” Kato Harada’s voice spoke again. “And it was my great honor to play a small but very important part. Tonight when our troop come ashore I will be a very happy and humble servant of our Illustrious Emperor. But I speak wisdom for a fool’s ears. Listen to me carefully! We have struck, and successfully, so I am not needed at the moment. I had planned to leave, but something happened to the submarine, and...ah, yes, I had forgotten, hadn’t I? The submarine you were supposed to hunt for, yes? Then on that dead dog this morning you must have found something that I failed to see? A map, perhaps? But you are young! You would not understand such things. There must have been someone else, yes? Someone I failed to see? Speak, my little fool. There is not much time, and I am in a hurry. There was someone else with you this morning? Who?”

  A hundred things to say in answer popped into Red Randall’s head. And no doubt he said the one thing that would please the Japanese least.

  “Stick around, and you’ll find out!” he flung out.

  Harada’s eyes seemed to light up with fire, and for one horrible instant Red Randall thought his end had come. But he was mistaken. Kato Harada immediately checked his flash of heathen rage. He actually smiled, but it was no more than the smile of a ruthless killer for his next victim.

  “So, you do not learn so fast, yes?” he hissed. “That is unfortunate for you. However, there is a time for everything, and right now I cannot be bothered with teaching. Tell me, Master Randall, you know of the Island of Niihau to the north? It is not over a hundred miles from this point.”

  Red stared at him, and his jaw sagged. “You...you know my name?” he gasped before he could check himself.

  “Yes,” the other replied with a smirk. “And that of your friend, which happens to be Joyce. You little fool, did you not hear me say we planned well so that ther
e would be nothing but success? Of course I know your names. You were listed to do some flying at your air club this morning. It was for us to know of every pilot and plane our forces might meet in the air this morning. Yes, even those bombers that are being flown out from the Mainland. They also will be dealt with when, and if, they arrive. But I asked you, do you know of Niihau Island, a hundred miles north of here?”

  For a moment Randall was tempted to act dumb and answer “No” to Harada’s question, but some instinct convinced him that that would be stupid. Everybody knew of Niihau Island, just as they knew of the other large islands in the Hawaiian group such as Hawaii, and Maui, and Molokai, and Kauai, and Oahu, and so forth. No, it would get him nothing, he felt, to act that dumb. And so he nodded.

  “Yes, I know where Niihau is,” he said tight-lipped.

  “That is good,” Harada replied with a nod of his black-haired, close-cropped head. “For that is where we are going now. You two and I in your airplane.”

  Randall was staggered, and he could hardly believe his ears. But when he forced himself to believe what he had heard, he was filled with a very definite and firm desire to remain right there on Oahu. In fact, it was his desire to remain right on the spot where he now was. A tiny thought, rather a hope had crept into his mind, and he was nursing it tenderly, for fear it would die out. A tiny, tiny hope, but still a hope that the watchers at the Kaneohe Naval Air Base had seen Jimmy Joyce shot down, and had also seen him go down after Jimmy. Perhaps those watchers had notified Colonel Stacey, or somebody, and a rescue party was already on its way up here to Waikane. Just a tiny hope, but when he thought of the Japanese sneak attack, and of the terrific explosions he had seen down there at the Kaneohe Naval Air Base, hope turned to despair.

  However, whether the hope lived or died, he was determined to stay right where he was.

  “Fly you to Niihau?” he shouted at Harada. “I wouldn’t do it in a million years! And you can’t make me either!”

  No blazing anger flared up in the Harada’s face. As a matter of fact he seemed no more than mildly amused by Randall’s bravado. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders and leveled his ugly-looking automatic at the American’s face.

  “You would rather die, young fool?” he hissed softly. “You would rather die...here, and now?”

  Red stared at the muzzle of the automatic, and he was suddenly raging at himself, because his body was trembling and sweating with fear. Probably Kato Harada did not realize it, because Red Randall didn’t realize it either, but at that moment...that very instant that young Randall stared into the muzzle of that automatic...he ceased to be a youth, and took his place among the brave men of the world!

  “Go ahead and shoot, darn you!” he blazed fiercely. “Go ahead and shoot me. I’m not afraid of you. You can’t make me fly you to Niihau, and that’s final!”

  Once again Harada’s anger, if he felt any, remained concealed behind his almost expressionless face. He glanced at a wrist watch he wore, seemed to sigh softly, and then looked at Red Randall out of patient and almost reproachful eyes.

  “You foolish American!” he murmured softly. “You are as stupid and as silly as your elders. Courage you have, yes. You are brave, but it is the bravery of a blind fool who does not stop to think. You are willing to die now? Yes, I believe you speak the truth. But I have planned for that, you see? Your young friend, there, Joyce!” Red blinked.

  “What do you mean?” he demanded as his throat felt tight and dry.

  “Can you not guess?” Harada echoed, and stabbed his eyes at Jimmy Joyce for a brief instant. “You would be the blind, brave, and stupid fool? You are willing to die, yes. But are you willing to see your friend die? And we Japanese know how to make death be a long time in coming. Much pain. Very much pain! You would like to see that, too, perhaps?”

  Red felt as though all of his senses were slipping away from him. The repulsive figure of Kato Harada seemed to weave and sway around in the air before him.

  “You...you wouldn’t!” he managed to get out hoarsely. “You wouldn’t dare! They’d shoot you when they caught you! You wouldn’t do it!”

  The Japanese laughed softly. “Will you not understand, little fool?’ he hissed at him. “Death is nothing to me. I would kill a million of your young friends to succeed in my great effort. And I would enjoy the killing. Now, give thought to what I say. You will fly me to Niihau, and when the time is right...and it will not be long...you and your little friend will be free to do as you please, and to go where you please. But be the fool that your thoughts are urging you to be, and you will see your friend suffer and die. Suffer more than your eyes can stand, and perhaps even then not die. And then you will join him. It will not be nice. It will be most unpleasant...for you both!”

  “Don’t do it, Red! The heck with him! Don’t do as he says! I guess I can take it, if you can!”

  Red started violently and looked down at Jimmy Joyce’s face. The eyes seemed flecked with pain, but in their depths were the fires of defiance. Blood still trickled down from the cut lump on his temple, and the marks where Harada’s hand had struck him still showed flaming red on his cheeks. With an effort Joyce drew back the corners of his mouth in a half grin and gave a little shake of his head.

  “Don’t do it, Red!” he whispered hoarsely. “He just wants to get away...because he knows he’ll be caught and shot if he stays here. He’s a Jap spy, Red, and they’ll take care of him. So, don’t do it!”

  Randall smiled, but when he tried to speak, the words just refused to come. They did not come because his tongue couldn’t possibly keep pace with the conglomeration of conflicting thoughts surging and romping through his brain. Right after he had blurted at the Japanese to go ahead and shoot him, he had felt a little sorry and silly, too. It had been like whistling in the dark, putting on a brave front just for an act. Sort of...well, sort of daring somebody to do something he felt very sure they wouldn’t do, anyway.

  But now Jimmy had asked for death. And had asked for all that would come before death. It had been no act with Jimmy. It had been no taunting challenge that wouldn’t be taken up. Jimmy meant what he said. He might be scared stiff, but he was willing to suffer and die to defeat the purpose of this ruthless killer from the Land of the Rising Sun.

  And Red suddenly knew way down deep inside of him that he, Red Randall, had meant what he had said, too. Jimmy Joyce’s brave words were a form of proof that he had meant what he had said. Red was scared, yes! Every nerve and fiber of his entire being was vibrating with fear, but it was not the fear of dying. It was something else. It was the fear that his death, and the death of Jimmy Joyce, would still not prevent Kato Harada from carrying out whatever evil purpose he had in mind.

  And for that reason, that fear, he smiled at Jimmy Joyce and slowly shook his head.

  “No, Jimmy,” he said. “I’m going to do what he says. I’ve got to!”

  Chapter Eleven – Harada’s Lair

  “FOOLISH ONE IS not always foolish!” Harada said softly. “It is well that you have given sensible thought to the words I spoke. If you continue so, you will have no cause for regrets. I have said so, and it will be so. But we have talked enough. Stay right where you are for one moment.”

  It seemed that the Japanese was no more than half way through that last sentence when he leaped lightly into the rear cockpit of the Fairchild and settled himself comfortably. Yet, as before, his eyes did not leave Red Randall for so much as a fleeting instant. He nodded and gestured with his gun.

  “Hoist your friend up here, and I will hold onto him,” he said. Then baring his teeth in what was supposed to be a leer, he added, “You will understand, of course, one foolish move by you, and I will let your friend Joyce slip off into the air. Then I will kill you and leap to safety with your parachute I wear. Do not be mistaken by what your friend said. No one will ever catch me, no! I could remain on Oahu forever, and no one would ever know. But there will be no need to hide where I will be safe, for by this time to
morrow the Japanese will rule these Islands. So...do as I order! And get into the plane.”

  For just one more moment Red hesitated, but it was not because he had changed his mind and intended to disobey the Japanese. It was because he was trying to straighten out some of the thoughts that were passing through his mind. Harada was not worried about remaining on Oahu because of his own personal safety. He was going to Niihau because it must have some connection with his boast that Japanese troops would be swarming over Oahu by midnight. At Niihau was perhaps the key to all that the Japanese was expecting to happen. And perhaps at Niihau Jimmy and he might...

  “Do as I order!” Harada’s voice cut into his tumbling thoughts like a knife. “I have waited long enough. Take this airplane into the air, but not too high. Keep low and head first for Kahuku Point. And remember all that I have spoken to you!”

  Red groaned under his breath, refused to let his eyes meet Jimmy Joyce’s, and hoisted the youth up to where Harada could grab hold and pull him half down into the cockpit like an awkward-shaped bundle he was going to carry in his lap. As Harada none too gently pulled Joyce down into place, his gun remained very much in evidence, and his wicked eyes remained on Randall. Finally Red climbed into the front cockpit, closed his tear-smarting eyes tight for a moment, and then took a deep breath and forced himself to get on with the task of getting the Fairchild aloft.

  He taxied around and down to the shore end of the level patch of ground so that he would have as long a take-off run as possible because of the extra weight the Fairchild was to carry. The plane was stoutly and sturdily built, however, and there was plenty of extra horsepower in the Ranger engine to take care of the additional load. As a matter of fact, Red had to use only two-thirds of the distance he had allowed for in order to lift the Fairchild clear and up into the air. Holding the nose up just enough to gain more altitude and keeping the Koolauloa Range off his left wing, he followed the shoreline northwestward toward Kahuku Point.