Green Hell

by Len Levinson

  They ran in a zigzag line, and at moments the fire around them became so intense that Frankie couldn't imagine how they could stay alive much longer. Adrenaline filled his veins and arteries and he ran as fleet as the wind behind Butsko, who was closing the distance between them and the headquarters building.

  Inside, Joanna raised her head, looked out the window, and was astonished to see two American soldiers running toward her. Behind them the camp was wreathed with smoke and flames, and bombs were bursting everywhere. Jumping to her feet, she ran out the door and jumped down the steps, her breasts bouncing up and down underneath her blouse, and Frankie noticed them although hell was breaking loose everywhere.

  “Let's go!” Butsko said to her. “Stay close!”

  She crouched low and ran behind Butsko and Frankie La Barbara as they shot their way back across the clearing. A Japanese soldier lying on the ground twenty yards in front of them raised his rifle to pick them off, and Butsko sprayed him with bullets that tore the hide off his back. Butsko jumped over him, dodged around a shellhole surrounded by mutilated Japanese soldiers, and looked ahead to the edge of the clearing.

  The natives were already out of sight in the jungle, and the recon platoon, or what was left of it, was fighting its desperate rearguard action. Airplanes roared overhead, dropping bombs and strafing. Joanna was so frightened, she tripped herself up and fell to the ground. Butsko and Frankie were busy shooting their submachine guns and didn't notice.

  “Wait for me!” she cried, scrambling to her feet.

  Frankie ran back a few steps, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up. Then he turned around, held his submachine gun with both hands, and continued firing at Japanese soldiers lying on the ground, running to keep up with Butsko, and Joanna stretched out her long legs as her face flashed in the glow of explosions.

  Lieutenant Karuma, nearly deaf from bomb blasts, and half covered with dirt from explosions, raised his head and happened to see Joanna dashing toward the jungle behind two American soldiers. They were moving from right to left in front of him, and their backs and left shoulders faced him. He raised his Nambu pistol and took aim, but just then another bomb landed nearby and its concussion blew him into the air. He did a somersault, his legs kicking wildly, and landed on his head, knocking himself unconscious. He sprawled onto the ground and lay still, his Nambu pistol a few feet away.

  Butsko, Frankie La Barbara, and Joanna Corby entered the jungle and joined the recon platoon firing submachine guns from behind trees. Jimmy Hughes was with them; he'd guide them back to Segi Point.

  Joanna lay on the ground and gulped air as she watched the American soldiers and Jimmy Hughes fire at the few Japanese soldiers in the clearing who were trying to pursue them. Every time a Japanese soldier stood up, somebody shot him down. Other Japanese soldiers crawled forward on their bellies, but the fire from the recon platoon made them cautious, and bombs kept falling, turning the camp into a wasteland. Buildings were on fire everywhere, debris lay on the ground, and huge flames boiled to the sky from the devastated motor pool, because the gas tanks underneath it had been detonated. Dead Japanese soldiers lay all across the encampment, and Lieutenant Karuma was still out cold, unable to provide leadership.

  Butsko could see that the Japanese soldiers weren't making much progress against the recon platoon position and decided it was time to get the hell out of there.

  “Pull back!” he shouted.

  They were waiting for him to give that order and withdrew immediately, backing into the jungle, firing their submachine guns at the Japanese soldiers in the clearing who were trying to advance. Joanna, her face flushed from her exertions, breathing heavily, retreated in a crouch behind the GIs. As they moved more deeply into the jungle, trees and bushes obscured their vision and fields of fire.

  Finally Butsko turned around and said, “Double-time!”

  Jimmy Hughes took the lead, and the rest of them followed him into the jungle, running as fast as they could. Frankie La Barbara stayed behind Joanna to make sure she didn't lag behind. When she faltered and appeared to be unable to continue, he grabbed her arm and dragged her along with him.

  Behind them the Japanese encampment was burning to the ground, and still the American bombers dived and dropped their explosives.

  ELEVEN . . .

  Lieutenant Karuma felt his face being slapped and opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, looking up into the faces of Sergeant Mitsui and the medical corporal.

  “Are you all right, sir?” asked Sergeant Mitsui anxiously.

  Lieutenant Karuma raised his head. Buildings were burning and men ran in all directions. He couldn't hear the planes anymore. He had a splitting headache and his neck felt as if it were badly sprained.

  “Don't move, sir,” said the medical corporal.

  “Get away from me!” Lieutenant Karuma said, pushing him to the side. He sat up, felt himself, and although he was sore, he decided nothing serious was wrong with him. “Help me up!”

  Sergeant Mitsui held out his hand and Lieutenant Karuma grabbed it, pulling himself to his feet. He shifted from one foot to another and worked his shoulders, feeling little stabs of pain here and there, but he knew nothing serious was wrong. Turning around, he saw that his headquarters had taken a direct hit from a bomb and was completely demolished. Looking to his right, he saw the stockade empty of prisoners, with no bomb craters around it. So that's it, he thought. They went through all that trouble just to free a bunch of flea-bitten natives. He looked at his watch; it was broken.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  ‘Two o'clock in the morning, sir.”

  “How long has it been since the Americans ran away?”

  “Around a half hour, sir.”

  “I have a headache,” he said to the medical corporal. “Give me something.”

  The medical corporal gave him two white pills and his canteen full of water. Lieutenant Karuma popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with the water. Handing back the canteen, he thought of Joanna Corby and her sweet fragrant breasts. He had almost possessed her, and now she was gone. That rankled as much as the destruction of his camp.

  He looked at Sergeant Mitsui. “Do we have communications yet with Munda Point?”

  “I don't know, sir. They're working on it.”

  “Tell them to work on it faster.” He turned to the medical corporal. ‘Take care of the other men.”

  Sergeant Mitsui and the medical corporal ran off, and Lieutenant Karuma limped toward a barrack that was relatively undamaged. He passed heaps of dead soldiers lying on the ground; wounded men were moaning everywhere. Some of the shell craters were deeper than he was tall, and the air smelled of gunpowder. He thought it strange that the Americans expended so many bombs just to save some stupid natives.

  He took a piss in the barrack and washed his face, then made his way to the communications hut, which had half of its roof blown away. Inside, technicians were splicing wires and replacing tubes. Sergeant Mitsui was there supervising the work.

  “We'll have Communications with Munda Point in a few minutes,” he said.

  “Give me a cigarette,” Lieutenant Karuma replied.

  Five hands shot forward with packs of cigarettes, and Lieutenant Karuma selected one of them, placing it in his mouth. Somebody gave him a light, and he puffed the cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he thought of destruction of his camp and the decimation of his garrison. He realized that American soldiers, acting in concert with the natives, were the cause of all his problems. Somehow he'd have to track them down and wipe them off the face of the earth. And if ever could get his hands on Joanna Corby again, he'd show her a thing or two.

  “Sir,” said one of the telephone operators, earphones clinging to his head, “we've made contact with Munda Point.”

  Lieutenant Karuma held out his hand, and someone passed him a telephone. He held it against his face and waited for his call to go through to Munda Point. Finally someone answered.

  “Th
is is Lieutenant Karuma in Vanguna Valley,” he said. “I must talk with Colonel Nishikawa immediately.”

  He heard clicks and snatches of conversation, buzzes and moments of silence, and then finally Colonel Nishikawa's voice spoke in his ear: “What is it this time, Karuma?”

  “Sir, my camp has just been severely damaged by American bombs.”

  “So you were the target!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hmmm. I wonder why they bombed you, since your camp has very little military significance.”

  “I can tell you why, sir,” said Lieutenant Karuma. “The bombing was to support an American ground attack on my camp, an attack whose purpose was to free the natives I'd taken prisoner.”

  “What natives were those?”

  “I took some natives prisoner and held them hostage until one of them would tell me the location of the Americans who blew up my ammunition dump.”

  “And they went through all that trouble just to free the natives?”

  “Yes, sir. It proves my theory that the natives are working closely with the Americans.”

  “Evidently,” Colonel Nishikawa agreed. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I intend to pursue them with all my remaining men except those necessary to perform necessary functions here at the camp.”

  “When are you going to do this?”

  “As soon as you give me permission, sir.”

  “You have it herewith, Lieutenant Karuma. Unless you catch those Americans, they will continue to make trouble for us on this island. And the natives need to be taught a lesson. You must pursue the Americans and wipe them out, and as for the natives, well, the ones who've worked with the Americans should probably be executed for espionage.”

  “I quite agree, sir.”

  “Then get going. Don't let their trail get too cold.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lieutenant Karurna hung up the phone and turned to Sergeant Mitsui. “Assemble all available men in front of the stockade and have them prepare for at least three days in the jungle. Have any of the dogs been injured?”

  “No, sir. Their kennel was damaged, but the dogs are all right.”

  “Good. Prepare the dogs and everybody else to move out as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sergeant Mitsui dashed out of the communications hut, and Lieutenant Karuma left a few moments later, heading for the quartermaster's storehouse to obtain supplies and equipment for himself.

  The recon platoon moved quickly through the jungle with Jimmy Hughes far in front of them, leading the way. Butsko was tired and knew the rest of them were too. The Japanese camp was far behind them and all they could see was a red glow in the sky, for the fires were still burning.

  Butsko figured they'd better take a break before they ran themselves into a state of exhaustion. They'd put a lot of distance between themselves and the Japanese, and he didn't think the Japanese were pursuing him too closely.

  “Stop right here!” he said, holding up his hand. ‘Take five.” Butsko turned around and saw Joanna, weary and breathing hard through her open mouth. Butsko handed her his canteen. “Have a drink?”

  She unscrewed the cap, raised the canteen to her lips, and took a swig. “Thank you,” she said, handing the canteen back. “Could I have a cigarette?”

  “No smoking here,” Butsko said. “A lighted cigarette can be seen a long way off in the night. Bannon!”

  “Yo!”

  “C'mere.”

  Bannon stood up and Butsko led him forward for a conference with Jimmy Hughes about which direction they were taking. Joanna sat down with her back leaning against a tree. Frankie materialized out of the darkness and dropped down at her feet.

  “How're you feeling?” he asked, putting on his best smile.

  His straight white teeth flashed in the moonlight, and Joanna thought him rather attractive. “I'm all right,” she said.

  “It must have been pretty rough back there with the Japs.”

  She nodded. “It was.”

  “What'd they do to you?”

  Joanna flashed on Lieutenant Karuma chewing her titties.

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  Frankie looked her over and was astonished that such a pretty girl would be on the island.

  “What are you doing on New Georgia?” he asked.

  “I came to see my father. He used to live here.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “The Japs killed him.”

  What the hell did he do here?”

  “He was a gold prospector.”

  “No kidding!”’

  Joanna nodded.

  “He ever find any?”

  “He told me he did, but I never saw any.”

  “Where did he say it was?”

  She pointed toward the interior of the island. “Somewhere in the mountains, but I didn't believe him. He wasn't a very truthful person. For years he told my mother he was on the verge of a big strike, but we never saw any gold and neither did anybody else.”

  “Maybe he was telling the truth this time,” Frankie said.

  “I doubt it.”

  Frankie puffed his cigarette thoughtfully. “Did he ever tell

  you where the gold was exactly?”

  “He drew a map for me when he was on his deathbed, but I think he was delirious. I mean, he'd been looking for gold all his life, and I guess when he was dying he thought he'd actually found it.”

  “You still have the map?”

  Joanna shook her head. “It's back in the village with my things. I don't know what happened to it now. The Japs might have burned down the whole village, for all I know.”

  Frankie was more nervous than usual, because he couldn't smoke, had no chewing gum, and was in the presence of a young woman who was giving him a hard-on. And what if there really was a ton of gold back in those hills? When the war was over a man could come back and claim it all. Frankie thought it was a long shot, but maybe the old geezer had found gold in the mountains. It was certainly worth checking into. He decided to stay close to Joanna for the possibility of finding the gold and the possibility of getting into her pants.

  “What's your name?” he asked.

  “Joanna Corby.”

  “I'm Frankie La Barbara.”

  “Hello,” she said with a hint of a smile.

  “Hi.”

  “I suppose I should thank you and the sergeant for saving my life.”

  “That's okay,” Frankie said. “Everybody's gotta help each other, right?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” She examined his big brown eyes and his fine Roman nose. “Where are you from in America?”

  “New York City—the big town!” he said proudly.

  “Really? I've always wanted to go to New York City.”

  “Look me up if you ever get there. I'm in the book. Frankie La Barbara on Mulberry Street. The farther down the street you go, the tougher they get. I live on the last house on the corner.”

  She smiled as she looked him over, and he certainly did look tough. She thought him an extremely sexy man, like her boyfriend, Johnny Burke.

  Butsko stood up and put on his cap. “Okay, let's get going!” he shouted. “The quicker we move out, the quicker we get back to Segi Point!”

  The Japanese soldiers lined up in four ranks in front of the empty compound. Two soldiers held the leashes of the two Doberman pinschers, which tried to pull away, barking and yelping, clawing the air with their paws.

  Lieutenant Karuma looked at the men; his eyes narrowed to ugly slits. He wore his helmet, carried a light pack filled with provisions, and had a Nambu pistol and his samurai sword strapped to his waist. The men numbered sixty-two—all that remained fit for duty out of his original company of one hundred and eighty.

  “Left face!” he called out. “Forward—at a route step— march!”

  The men walked toward the jungle
with Lieutenant Karuma at their side. When they came to the jungle, Lieutenant Karuma told them to stop and ordered the dogs to be set loose, to pick up the trail of the Americans and natives.

  The dogs sniffed the ground and ran back and forth, barking and snapping, wagging the stumps that were their tails, trying to find the smell. They pushed their noses into bushes, against the roots of trees, and along trails. One of the dogs was a female, the other a male. The female dog crossed in front of the male dog and the male dog stuck his nose up her ass. She yelped and jumped a foot in the air, and Lieutenant Karuma kicked the male dog in the ass.

  “Stop that!” he bellowed.

  The male dog whimpered and skittered away. He pressed his nose against the ground and went back to work. Lieutenant Karuma paced anxiously back and forth, glancing at the watch he'd taken from the dead body of one of his soldiers killed in the bombing. He estimated that the Americans and natives had left nearly three hours before, which gave them a huge head start, but he'd track them down sooner or later. They wouldn't be able to hide for long on such a small island. He'd put them all before a firing squad and shoot them down, and then he'd take Joanna Corby back to his headquarters and finish what he'd started doing to her.

  The female dog barked happily and ran off into the jungle.

  “She's picked up the trail, sir!” said one of the handlers.

  Then the male dog howled and followed the female dog. Lieutenant Karuma waved his arm, and his men plunged into the jungle after the dogs, which were excitedly barking and bounding along. The dogs led the men deeper into the wilderness, then up a hill and down the other side. At the bottom of the hill they became confused, whining, moving off in several directions and then returning, gazing at Lieutenant Karuma with mournful eyes.

  “Sir,” said one of the handlers, “it appears that the enemy split up here. Which of the trails should we follow?”

  Lieutenant Karuma scowled. He hadn't expected this. It was going to be more difficult than he'd thought. But then he realized it didn't matter which trail he followed, as long as it led him to natives or American soldiers. No matter who he found, he'd force them to lead him to the others.