Dragon of the Mangrooves

by Yasuyuki Kasai

  All three said they wanted to go, but Sumi didn’t listen to their protests. He knew full well they were delighted to escape from a dangerous duty. Still, they had to make it seem as though they were disappointed. It was the etiquette of the armed forces.

  Shimizu suggested that Sumi carry a sword, but Sumi turned a deaf ear to his advice. Every Japanese officer obtained a sword at his own expense and boastfully dangled it from a belt. Even a Navy admiral carried a sword as a matter of course, the dress code required it. Sumi didn’t like that and even thought it absurd. He could never understand why the Navy, whose battles were centered on operating machines, needed swords. Anyway, a Japanese sword was unfit for a Burmese disguise.

  He clasped his leather belt again. With his ancestral sword detached, it was much lighter now, which also lightened his mind somewhat. Even if he were to die on the foreign island, his family’s precious sword could return home and not fall into enemy hands.

  Everything was ready. He looked over the faces of his crew. “I’m going to report to the company commander. As soon as I’m back, we’ll move out. Change clothes and wait for me at the floating bridge.”

  The sun had set, and the dark water of the Taungup River flowed quietly.

  When Sumi arrived at the 121st Infantry Regiment HQ, Captain Yoda wasn’t there, unfortunately. But it was soon arranged that Colonel Nagashima, the 121st Infantry Regiment commander, would meet with him to get a report instead. An orderly guided Sumi to a shack, which seemed like his office. There he found a map of Ramree Island pinned up on a wall. It was a detailed one, drawn on a scale of one to fifty thousand. Many signs and arrows, standing for the courses of both armies, were scribbled on it in colored pencil. The complexity of interwoven red and blue lines showed the agony of a commander who had gotten by in difficult situations.

  A few minutes later, Colonel Nagashima came into the shack. He was a tall man who wore glasses and had a gentle look. A flame of a taper on an old writing desk reflected on his lenses.

  After listening to Sumi’s report, Nagashima said calmly, “The garrison has often offered opinions. Their main intention is defending the island to the death by guerilla wars. But I don’t want to let them do it. Here we made every effort to minimize the death toll. The garrison commander will carry out the creek-crossing operation on the night of the eighteenth, the day after tomorrow. I have already requested the Fifth Air Division to dispatch aircraft that day.

  Although enemies are swarming around in the sea and on land, I want you to make it out with the garrison and save as many of them as possible.”

  He continued, “To tell you the truth, I’m sorry to force such a duty on an officer like you, however supreme the division order may be.”

  Concerned for Sumi, Nagashima gave him three packs of cigarettes.

  After leaving the HQ, Sumi reflected on Colonel Nagashima’s words under twinkling stars. He thought it was lucky for Ramree Garrison to have such a commander. The fate of every soldier rested on his commander. In those days, many friendly garrisons had been wiped out after resisting until death in Pacific solitary islands like Attu or Leyte. Even soldiers in Burma circulated rumors about those terrible scenes and feared they might follow the same fate.

  Ramree, in fact, wasn’t a solitary island like those on the Pacific Ocean. It was closer to a holm or a bottomland, rather than an island. But it made no difference either way. Removed from the main force by the steep mountains of Arakan and the countless creeks, it was the same isolated front line.

  The agony of the garrison was much the same. No matter how ridiculous the order to swim across a sea full of enemies might be, being part of a rescue would be much better than being annihilated helplessly. Sumi couldn’t deny that he had received a significant duty in the very battlefield where destruction and massacres were everyday affairs.

  “Listen, men! Our destination is Ramree Island. We head there to help Second Battalion of the 121st Infantry Regiment evacuate to the mainland!”

  Sumi loudly briefed members of the rescue party standing in a row. Everyone had disguised himself as a Burmese, putting on a white shirt and wrapping around a lungi, the tubular loincloth that was part of Burmese clothing culture.

  Their faces were well tanned, and only their eyes gave away their hesitation. With Sten guns under their arms, they gave an impression of statelessness rather than Burmese.

  “Let’s go soon, Lieutenant. If we’re strolling around in these latest fashions, we’ll get shot by our comrades,” said Yoshioka.

  Indeed he was right. Now the honorable Imperial Army soldiers couldn’t take on a rescue action without a wacky disguise.

  Sumi was astonished to learn from one of the steersmen that many British-Indian troops had gathered up near the Cape of Amou, the intended landing point, a few days before. Sumi knew an enemy of two-battalion strength had landed the cape on January 30, but he also heard it had advanced further inland without constructing any beachheads there. The steersman reported that the troops had been leveling off an open area near a neighboring village named Kyauknimaw, to which Sumi let out a groan. “They’re making an airfield.”

  It was too dangerous to plunge into an airfield where the enemy must certainly be on the alert. Sumi’s initial plan to break through the east coast at a stretch from the Cape of Amou to Yanthitgyi, the shortest course to be taken, was now useless. He hadn’t prepared any other landing points. However, Manboy assured him that Uga had sound piers. Uga was a small village southwest, facing the Cheduba Strait. Sumi changed his plan and chose Uga. As a matter of course, the enemy might have already occupied there. He couldn’t deny that possibility but had no other option. He chose Uga partially out of despair.

  Crew members piled into the boats, and the steersmen started the engines.

  Clamorous sounds and irritating exhaust fumes encircled them. Sumi’s number one boat took in Pondgi, Manboy, and Lance Corporal Yoshitake, the stout, crack hand with a machine gun. Manboy asked Sumi whether they should turn on navigation lights after he had discussed something with the steersman.

  “Light it as far as Tai Island. We’re fishermen going night fishing. Why do we have to be on the sly?” Sumi said bluntly, as if he had persuaded himself, and directed the steersman with gestures.

  The other boats turned on their navigation lights one after another, following the first boat’s lead, throwing a blurry, orange light over the crew’s tense faces.

  The fleet slowly disembarked from the floating bridge and began slithering on the pitch-dark surface.

  The boats’ speed was as slow as a human could walk. Yoshitake worried. “Can we really get to Ramree with these snails?”

  But the boats sang a different tune when they left the estuary. The steersmen might have increased the engines’ output, because all the boats started cutting through the waves. Spray fell on both sides. Sumi and Yoshitake, sitting on the taffrail, received a lot of it and took cover behind the cabin.

  Yoshitake seemed to get excited at the high speed, and cracked a joke, his big body shaking with laughter. “Here’s some special news from front lines! Sumi task force is advancing on the Indian Ocean and sweeping everything before it!”

  But Sumi was worried that enemies might hear the roar of engines permeating through the darkness and come on them at any moment. He couldn’t enjoy it like Yoshitake.

  However, Sumi was surprised and pleased with the boat’s incredibly high speed. He realized that when Second Lieutenant Okada had said, “It can run away from even a destroyer,” it was at the very least not a barefaced lie. He wanted to ask the steersman how many knots the boat was making. But the boat kept shaking fiercely and throwing almost everything on board into the air, so Sumi was preoccupied with clinging onto the cabin’s frame.

  As Pondgi said, the steersman knew the sea well. He steered confidently, and remained silent, except for some short briefings with Manboy. When they had navigated under the starry sky for almost five hours, the exhaust and the speed suddenl
y decreased.

  “Hey! What’s the matter?” Sumi questioned the steersman, with Pondgi trans-lating. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, he says we’ve made it to Tai Island, Master,” said Pondgi.

  Sumi strained his eyes. The black shadow of the uninhabited island loomed on the starboard bow. “Turn off the navigation light!” commanded Sumi. All the warm color around them stopped abruptly, leaving only the deepening darkness over the fleet.

  Sumi asked, “How long does it take us to get to Uga from here?”

  “In two hours or less. Manboy says we can take the good tide,” Pondgi replied.

  Sumi was satisfied with this smooth progress and looked at his watch. Its luminous dial dimly indicated one o’clock in the morning.

  The next moment, a distant burr reached his ears. No sooner had he realized it, than a big shadow brushed over the boat. He looked up and saw distinctive oval tail fins. It was a B-24 heavy bomber. And then came another and another.

  Because of the darkness, he couldn’t count an accurate number, but it looked like a fair formation of no less than an air regiment. The bombers flew so low that he could discern the silhouette of machine guns. If it spat fire, it would be all over for them.

  Everybody froze on the spot, surrounded by the whir of propellers. Feeling only cold sweat trickle down his sides from his armpits, Sumi said, “Go at full speed as soon as the bombers go. Can the others follow us without navigation lights?”

  Pondgi answered, “This steersman says it’s OK. The others also know the sea.”

  Sumi gave a slight nod. He got very thirsty and picked up his canteen. He felt as though a long time had passed. The flock of B-24s flew toward Rangoon. He could see nothing but stars in the sky. Everybody drew a deep breath.

  It almost seemed a miracle they hadn’t gotten strafed. What if they had delayed turning off the lights? Thinking about that, Sumi was naturally forced to give thanks for their sheer luck and said, “Well, we can’t waste even a minute now. Uga at full throttle!”

  The fleet turned sharply in the darkness, one after another, and went north toward the Cheduba Strait, emitting reassuring exhaust notes. The speed was faster than ever, half-swamping the deck with sea spray.

  After a while, the vague silhouette of a considerable island appeared. It was Ramree Island. Sumi clenched his hands into fists. Beside him, Yoshitake and Pondgi were jostling about excitedly.

  The west coast facing them had many shallow beaches, so they could get stranded if they came too close. The fleet fixed its course toward the northwest and navigated along the coast.

  Several distant lights came into view, apparently from some settlements on the shore. As the boats drew nearer, they could see piers, floating bridges, and many boats moored there.

  Sumi heaved a sigh of relief and said, “Is that Uga?”

  “Yeah, Uga, Uga, Japan master,” the steersman replied. His smiling face looked relieved as he deftly manipulated the steering wheel and pulled the boat into a vacant floating bridge. Manboy agilely leaped to the bridge and moored the boat without delay. Soon the rest made port, one by one. At that moment, the Sumi rescue party had succeeded in landing on Ramree Island.

  Sumi ordered the signalmen to telegraph their arrival. Then he went alone to the main street, running from south to north, and scrutinized the road with a flashlight. There was no trace of jeeps or tanks. Enemies hadn’t been here yet. Feeling at ease, he returned to the pier.

  Judging from the map, they had to break through mountainous terrain to get to Yanthitgyi. It would take two days at least. A round trip would take four days.

  Adding two more days to it for contingencies, he figured it would cost six days in all. At first glance, there was no sign that enemy planes had strafed the ten or so miscellaneous fishing boats moored at the pier. It seemed possible to slip the five rescue boats inconspicuously for a time. Sumi called Yoshioka and ordered him to keep watch on their precious boats until the party returned. There was no insurance against the steersmen leaving the boats unattended. So Sumi reminded him to keep tabs on the Burmese.

  “Understood, Lieutenant! If the locals get suspicious and ask me why we stay here, I’ll talk around it,” the cheerful, good-looking Yoshioka replied with an air of confidence.

  Sumi decided to leave Manboy behind. He knew he must entrust Manboy to pilot a return sail. He also made the two signalmen concentrate on receiving duties. He judged that their heavy and bulky transmitter-receiver would be quite cumbersome in a mountain trek.

  “We all wish you Godspeed,” Yoshioka said.

  The remaining four saluted and watched the party of nine, led by Second Lieutenant Sumi, disappear into a dark mountain.

  Despite the tropical climate, a night in the mountains was chilly and wrapped in sheer silence, interrupted only by sudden, uncanny birdcalls. The Sumi rescue party was quietly ascending a game trail. It was a forced march, because they had to advance as far as possible by dawn. When they came to a fork, Sumi shone his flashlight at the map. The left trail should lead to the position where some part of Fifth Company had held fast, with their only precious twenty-five PDR field gun, since the end of January.

  Shimizu came to him. “What should we do, Lieutenant? Do we go there?”

  “No, even if we go now, we’ll find nobody but enemies there,” Sumi answered, and he took the right trail in the fork, closer to Yanthitgyi.

  Going through Hill 306, this pass would merge into Payadgi-Ramree Road, connecting Ramree Town, the second largest in the island, and Payadgi Plain.

  This road would have been widened by construction of the enemy airfield, since their troops would be using it heavily. Sumi could tell that crossing that road would be one of the operation’s hardest tasks.

  The party advanced again.

  Sergeant Shimizu and several other crew members had fought in the 1937

  China Incident. That battle had led to this long war. In the winter of that year, they all had been fighting hard in North China against Chiang Kai-shek’s Chinese Nationalist Army, while Japanese parallel forces had been slaughtering many civilians in Nanking or Shanghai. The Chinese Army had already been combat-hardened and even equipped with modern cannons, quite ironically imported from Germany, the alliance of Japan. Shimizu and others had gotten beaten up by the Chinese there, so they knew how to move amid enemies. Without Sumi’s order, everyone changed into sandals to avoid having their boots make noisy footsteps.

  Sumi and his men couldn’t hear any gunshots. Their own soft treading were the only sounds in the weird tranquility, making them wonder whether any battle had taken place on that island.

  When daybreak came near, the soldiers heard clamorous sounds from a clump of trees. Something was crying eerily, and it echoed through the forest. Sumi had no way to tell whether it was a monkey or a bird. Then he noticed a white streak lighting up the lower eastern sky. Shortly, the game trail through Hill 306 went gently downhill to Ramree Plain.

  He thought of the physical strength of his crew. They had taken a nap the previous morning, but some of them vomited badly on the way due to fatigue from seasickness and the forced march. Clearly they had to take a rest.

  The trail joined a meandering dirt path and continued to descend. After a while, a brook not drawn on the map appeared to their right. It was a tributary of one of the rivers draining into Kalaidaung Creek. Its water was dark and stagnant. A broad marsh spread out everywhere on the right bank, except for thin mud streaks that hemmed the water. Sumi looked around carefully. He could see clearly through the marsh. Even if any enemy should approach, he would be easy to spot. Besides, surrounding trees protected them from being seen from the air.

  It was suitable for making a stop. “We’ll make a long halt here. Have a bite and sleep a little, all of you,” ordered Sumi.

  Released from the long march at long last, the crew breathed freely again.

  They found a dry part of the ground and sat. Immediately, everyone rummaged his haversack and
crammed a rice ball into his mouth. However, Pondgi set out walking along the mud bank alone and inspected the ground.

  “What’s up, Pondgi? Do you want to crap here? Are you searching like a dog?”

  Yoshitake asked.

  Everyone giggled. But Pondgi didn’t crack a smile, even a bit. Then he

  returned to face Sumi in a determined manner. “Master Sumi. Here is no good.”

  “Why?” Sumi asked with a laugh, but he soon became serious. “Why do you think so?”

  “Crocodiles are coming,” Pondgi said.

  “Crocodiles?” It didn’t make sense to Sumi. He even thought of drawing his Nambu fourteen, fearing that Pondgi was speaking metaphorically of enemies.

  “I can’t see any crocs now,” Yoshitake said. “Where on earth are they?”

  “In the river. That’s why you can’t see them. But there are many traces of them around. They must have used this spot for sunbathing.”

  Pondgi approached the edge, still timidly, and pointed down. Sure enough, there was a strange print etched in a strip on the mud. Its width was well over one meter, and the surface was churned up. It looked like a huge serpent had wriggled about in the mud. The center part was depressed deeply, which told of the incredible weight of its creator. Observing the area carefully, they spotted more traces of the same kind.

  Subtle unrest spread among the soldiers.

  “A lizard-like animal at the most. Nothing much at all. We all are in Army!

  Why should we fear it?” Shimizu suddenly blustered.

  Then Yoshitake followed him. “That’s right! Does it shoot at us with an automatic rifle? Can it use those damned Hurricanes or tanks and attack us like Engli bastards do? We have guns!”

  A superior private named Morioka then cut in. Morioka was a talkative fellow who had been a primary school teacher. “A Burmese croc is a saltwater crocodile, I think,” he said. “Burmese and African Nile crocodiles are fierce and known as man-eaters. A big one reportedly reaches seven meters in length and one ton in weight. If that kind pounces on us, guns are useless. There will be no hope to survive.”