by Chris Glatte
Ahio saw him looking and broke into a wide smile. He reached back and grabbed the pole. The objects swung wildly, appearing to be medium sized balls. Caprielli reached his hand out to stop them from spinning. He pulled his hand back fast when he realized they were shrunken human heads. Disgusted he said, “What the hell are those?”
Welch said something to Ahio and they both laughed. He slapped the Lieutenant on the back, “Those are what you think they are…shrunken human heads. Don’t forget these islands have only been occupied by the commonwealth for the past one hundred years. Headhunting and cannibalism were rampant for many thousands of generations.” He smiled at the heads, “These were passed down from Chief Ahio’s grandfather, possibly the last relics from those days. They’re a national treasure.”
Caprielli scowled, “Not for those poor souls.”
Welch shrugged, “Our influence turned them away from such atrocities. Before the Japs arrived, these islands were well managed and behaved societies. Honestly, if they thought the Japs would win they’d turn us in to save their own skins. They’re loyal as long as we’re supplying them with goods and showing progress.”
“That sounds pretty flimsy.”
Ahio put the shrunken heads back against the wall and spoke to Welch who translated. “He’s asking when you plan on visiting the next village…where Captain Morrisey is.”
“We’ll sleep here tonight and go in the morning. The sooner we meet up with him the sooner we can plan some guerrilla attacks.”
After Ahio heard the translation he clapped his hands and spoke excitedly. “Ahio says his hunters killed a wild boar today, they will feast and celebrate your arrival.”
Carver reentered the hut, “Sir, Crandall went up a tree and was able to relay the message you wanted sent out. He talked with Lieutenant Smote. He wants you to check back in when you find Captain Morrisey. He also sent his thanks for the info.” Lieutenant Caprielli nodded, this mission might turn out alright after all.
The smell of cooking boar meat permeated the village making the hungry soldiers salivate. They hadn’t had a hot meal since arriving on Guadalcanal. Villagers hustled about preparing for the big night. They wanted to build a big bonfire, but Welch reminded them of the danger of air attacks and they settled for a small fire under cover of a thatch roof with no walls.
The soldiers sat around the fire. Chief Ahio assured them the perimeter was well guarded by his best men. The soldiers took it with a grain of salt and held onto their carbines anyway. Women were entering the circle of men to refill gourds with water. Dunphy stared at the women, smiling and waving. One in particular caught his fancy. She was homely by western standards, but younger than the others and shyer.
When she entered the circle, he held up his empty gourd for a refill. She walked over and kneeled beside him, holding her animal skin flask out. He handed her his cup, but when she reached for it he pulled it back, teasing her. She looked at him and he smiled. She gave him a small smile back then looked down in embarrassment. He reached out and lifted her chin. He looked her in the eye then held out his cup and she poured. “Thank you,” he said.
She nodded and left the circle. He watched her all the way and was happy to see her look back at him just before disappearing in the darkness. He took a drink of water and Private O'Connor leaned close, “I’d be careful if I was you. She looks like jailbait to me.”
“Out here? There’s no such thing. Besides she looks old enough to me.”
“I wasn’t referring to her age, but her being Chief Ahio’s daughter. Doubt he wants your grubby hands on her.”
“My hands are clean,” he spit, “mind your own business, Red.”
The night went on and soon they were feasting on wild boar. Parts of the animal were passed around and the men would tear off a chunk and pass it along. Dunphy stood up and mumbled he was going to take a piss. He wiped his greasy hands on his pants and left the circle of light. The darkness was complete. He stopped and stretched his back waiting for his eyes to adjust. He went to the edge of the village and took a piss. He stared up at the stars which were darting in and out of cloud cover. The jungle noises were almost deafening. With a full belly and relatively safe position he pondered the island. He wondered if people vacationed here before the war. He doubted it.
He finished and turned back towards the village. His eyes were adjusted and he could see the women and children huddled in a group waiting for the men to finish eating. He realized they were waiting to eat whatever was leftover. He spotted the girl he’d teased and watched her. Back home he wouldn’t have given her the time of day, but he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time and he was used to being with women. His family money, his position in society and his handsome features were magnets for shallow treasure-seeking young ladies. He’d never sought them out, but they’d always found him and he’d grown accustomed to the touch of a woman. He craved that touch now.
As he watched, she stood and took her flask to get a refill. Now was his chance. He watched her and followed. She stopped at a barrel that looked like it once held wine. She twisted a knob and refilled her skin.
He came up behind her and when she turned she let out a yelp. He put his hand over her mouth and his finger to his. “Hey, it’s me, don’t be startled.”
When she recognized him, he took his hand from her mouth. Her dark eyes shone in the night. He couldn’t decide if it was fear or excitement. He smiled and took a step back. She relaxed, “You’re pretty,” he said, thinking the direct approach would be best.
She said something he couldn’t understand. He smiled, “I think you’re beautiful.” She smiled and he reached out to touch her cheek. She pulled back slightly. He took that as a good sign and he kept his hand there. She looked into his eyes and he gave his best bedroom eyes back. He caressed her cheek and stepped closer. She said something and he put his finger on her lips. “It’s okay. We can have some fun.”
She didn’t understand his language and he didn’t understand hers, but there was no doubt of his intentions. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. She looked surprised and tried to turn away, but he held her cheek and lifted her face. He kissed her lips, but she didn’t kiss him back. He kissed her again and this time she responded and kissed him back. He smiled inwardly, now we’re getting somewhere.
They kissed in the darkness, then she broke away, smiled and led him by his hand around the outside of the village. He looked behind him at his squad still scarfing down wild boar around the fire. They wouldn’t miss him for a while. He followed this island girl and she led him to a hut. The inside was as bare as the other huts, but it had a pile of military style blankets mounded on a makeshift thatch bed.
She pulled him towards it and she sat down in front of him. She looked into his eyes and started unbuttoning his pants. This girl wasn’t as innocent and shy as she pretended. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as she worked her magic. Soon he was lying beside her under the itchy wool blankets. It was hot, but the sweat that dripped from both their bodies mingled and made their lovemaking even more powerful.
13
Sergeant Carver woke before light to the sound of yelling. He gripped his Thompson and aimed towards the commotion, but he didn’t see any flashes or signs of combat. The yelling was in Pidgin and it sounded like the head honcho, Ahio. He ignored his stiff muscles and joints and trotted to the yelling coming from a hut. He kept his weapon ready, but didn’t enter. More yelling and someone came running out the door pulling on their shirt while their carbine dangled from their shoulder. Sergeant Carver gritted his teeth and put his shoulder down knocking the running man off his feet with a perfect open field tackle.
He stepped over the figure and leaned down to see who he’d leveled. He recognized Private Dunphy gasping as he struggled to catch his breath. He put his boot on Dunphy’s chest and held him there. Chief Ahio came storming out, pulling behind him his naked daughter. He saw Sgt. Carver holding down his daughter’s lover and started
yelling in Pidgin. Carver put his hand up for silence, but the tirade continued. Carver yelled, “Welch, get your ass over here!”
A bleary-eyed Thomas Welch stumbled over, pulling on his shirt. He’d been getting the best sleep he’d had in days and was none too happy about the interruption. He saw the situation and spoke in rapid-fire Pidgin to Ahio, who fired it right back. “Your bloke there,” he squinted in the pre-dawn darkness, “Dunphy, was caught in bed with Ahio’s daughter, Lela. It seems the chief’s upset.”
Carver guffawed, “Yeah, I figured out the upset part on my own.” Dunphy started to struggle against Carver’s boot, but he pushed harder pinning him there. “Stay down there, lover boy. You’re in deep shit and I’m not in the mood.”
“Let me up goddammit, Sarge.” Carver let his Thompson move forward, the barrel swinging back and forth across Dunphy’s chest. He stopped struggling.
Lieutenant Caprielli arrived and Carver filled him in. Dawn was quickly approaching, the sounds changing from night animals and insects to awakening day animals and insects. He looked at the half disrobed Dunphy, the woman standing in the doorway with an Army blanket wrapped around her and the scowling Chief Ahio. He put two and two together. “Let him up, Sergeant.”
Dunphy shot to his feet and stood beside Carver with gritted teeth. Carver looked him in the eye wanting him to strike him, willing it with all his might. He yearned to have an excuse to pummel the cocky rich boy and there was no better reason than self-defense.
Caprielli pushed Dunphy away, “At ease soldier, you’re already in trouble.” He pointed to a stump twenty feet away, “Sit over there while I figure this shit out, Private.” When he didn’t move, he yelled, “Now!”
Dunphy snapped out of it and went to the stump. He put his shirt the rest of the way on and slung his rifle. He sat down heavy and ran his fingers through his hair.
Lieutenant Caprielli told Welch, “Tell the chief we’re sorry for any indiscretion and we’ll punish Dunphy for his actions.”
Welch translated and listened to Ahio’s heated response. “Chief says Dunphy’s going to have to make it right by marrying his daughter.”
Dunphy heard and sprang to his feet, “Marry her? That’s ridiculous…”
Carver strode across the space and pushed him back onto the stump, he hit hard. “Shut the hell up or I’ll shut it for you.”
For once Dunphy listened and didn’t speak. Lieutenant Caprielli said, “Tell the chief there can’t be a wedding. He’s a soldier. He can’t stay here and he can’t take her back to our country. It’s impossible.”
Welch raised his eyebrows, but relayed the argument. The chief eyeballed Dunphy, pointed at him and spoke. Welch translated. “He says Dunphy disgraces his village, his daughter and himself by his actions. He demands marriage or punishment by his means.”
Caprielli squinted, “What kind of punishment we talking? Not burning or head shrinking or anything like that I hope.”
Welch asked and responded, “He says he needs to stay in the village and work as a… well I think he means, slave. He says he must do this or his men will join the Japanese and kill all of us.”
Carver looked around looking for any aggressive moves by the natives. Most were listening to the exchange and their postures changed from peaceful to alert. Carver held his Thompson in both hands, ready.
Caprielli put both hands up, “Whoa there, take it easy. We can figure this out.” The other members of the squad gripped their rifles and looked around at the men they’d feasted with only hours before. Even being outnumbered three to one their carbines would make short work of the lightly armed natives. “Let the chief know I’ll have to think about it. Just give me a minute.”
When that was done he waved Carver and Welch over. He asked Welch, “Is this guy for real?”
Welch nodded, “Undoubtedly, I’ve never known him to bluff. He’s quite a serious fellow, good fighter too. We can’t afford to upset him or we risk losing the natives across the whole island.”
Lieutenant Caprielli shook his head, “I can’t just leave Dunphy here as a slave. He’s a United States soldier. It’s disgraceful and probably illegal.”
Sergeant Carver spoke, “Why not? The shitbird deserves it; probably do him some good. We’ll give him a week. Our mission with Morrisey will take at least that long to accomplish. We’ll pick him up after that. It’s for the good of the mission.”
Caprielli pinched his lower lip and kicked dust with his foot. “There’s no chance we come back next week and find Dunphy’s shrunken head is there?”
Welch smiled, “Unless the young private does something horrific, there’s little chance of that. White men are held in high regard by these people; they consider us their betters. To have one as a slave is a huge coup and will completely compensate them for their bruised pride.”
Caprielli looked over at the sulking Dunphy. After a minute he nodded, “What about the Japs? Will he be safe here?” he realized the stupidity of the question before he finished the sentence. They were all in danger, they were on Guadalcanal surrounded by hostile Japanese soldiers. “Alright, tell Ahio he’s got himself a new slave.”
They shook hands on the deal. Sergeant Carver kneeled down in front of Dunphy and told him the good news. Dunphy turned pale. “What do you mean a slave? You can’t do this; you can’t make me stay.” He looked into Carver’s steaming eyes, “What if I just marry her? I mean it’s not like there’s a preacher here, it won’t be a legal marriage. I’ll just fake it and tell her I’ll be back to get her after the war.”
“Bullshit! She doesn’t deserve that. It’s an order. You’ve jeopardized this entire mission and unless you want to marry the girl for real, you’re gonna do it.” He put his finger to his chest, “If you fuck this up you won’t make it back to Division for the LT to court-martial you. I’ll be sure you don’t make it back, understand?”
Dunphy stared into Carver’s hateful eyes. He meant every word and he had no doubt he’d carry out the threat. He pondered his plight. If he refused, the best-case scenario was getting court-martialed back at Division and spending years in prison. Worst case, Sgt. Carver would drop a grenade beside him while he slept. A week of slavery? Well that was a total unknown, but he’d be done in a week, he’d have a bed every night, probably food too. What’s the worst that can happen?
14
The squad left the village an hour later without Private Dunphy. O'Connor turned before entering the jungle and saw Dunphy surrounded by villagers. He was an asshole, but he hoped he’d be okay. He shook his head, the smart S.O.B. was actually getting a week’s vacation away from combat patrolling. His smile disappeared when he thought how much could happen in a week’s time.
They walked in single file following three native men with old bolt action Lee Enfield rifles. Despite the corrosive effects of the jungle environment, the rifles were in surprisingly good condition. The natives thought of them as prized possessions and took care of them accordingly. O'Connor looked at his own weapon, taking some abuse out here, but basically brand new. The Marines landed on the canal using similar weapons as the Lee Enfields, bolt action Springfields. How’d those guys stay alive with those relics? He silently thanked the Army for sending him into battle with the M1.
They followed a trail that was well used. The guides kept a fast pace supremely confident in their abilities to avoid any Japanese patrols. The way they moved soundlessly grew O'Connor’s respect. These guys had been hunting their entire lives, moving silently was bred into them, they didn’t know any other way.
At one point they slowed and stopped, waving the rest of them down. O'Connor passed the signal and waited. He had no doubt if they stopped there was a real threat out there somewhere. He strained to see and hear anything, but there was nothing, only jungle. After five minutes the guides signaled them up and they continued. O'Connor wondered what they’d seen. Maybe they’re acting on instinct and sensed something.
They marched unimpeded for three miles. The tr
ail led down to a valley with a raucous creek bouncing through. The guides bent down and drank handfuls of water. The rest of the men filled canteens, dropped Halazone tablets in, waited the ten minutes it took to kill any diarrhea causing bugs and drank their fill. The water tasted cold and sweet, even with the Halazone. O'Connor dipped his hat and poured it over his head. He closed his eyes relishing the coolness as it flowed down his body. He wanted to sit down and soak his aching feet, but the guides waved them forward and they started climbing the other side of the valley.
The trail steepened and soon they were slowing down. Their packs weren’t as heavy as before, but they were still more than they were used to carrying. After a mile the guides stopped and gave whistles that sounded like jungle birds. There was an answering whistle and they stood up and advanced into a clearing. Ancient trees hung over the clearing. The trees’ upper branches formed an almost solid roof above. The village would be invisible from the air.
In comparison to Ahio’s village this village was immense. The same thatch huts were everywhere. They were bigger and looked more maintained. The village seemed rich and thriving, or at least it had been before the Japanese invaded and cut off supplies from the coast.
Chief Ahio’s guides greeted the other villagers in excited Pidgin, no doubt telling the tale of the white slave. It would boost their prestige in the area and they held it over the others in obvious pride. These villagers were similarly armed with old rifles and pistols. The men without guns had long knives with wood handles. There were at least three times more villagers than Ahio’s and they all gathered around the newcomers with interest.
From a central hut, a tall white man wearing wrinkled and torn beige pants and a short sleeve button down shirt emerged. He put his hands on his hips and took the scene in. He strode up to Lieutenant Caprielli, his long legs covering the ground quickly. He stopped in front of him and smiled through a thick dark beard. The man was immediately likable. He extended his hand, but the lieutenant saluted him instead. Morrisey grinned and gave him one back then extended his hand, “Courtney Morrisey at your service. You can call me Court or if you prefer, Captain.”
