Dragon of the Mangrooves

by Yasuyuki Kasai

  When Kasuga, Hirono, and Jinno arrived at the open emplacement in the eastern-most portion of the fire trench, Sergeant Tomita was standing beside their heavy machine gun with a tool box and a shovel—his usual items to set the gun—in his hands. Jinno stepped up to him, and they held a short discussion in subdued tones.

  Then Tomita gave a command. “Prepare for disassembly conveyance!”

  In the heat of early afternoon, the column led by Tomita went into a long stretch of hills where the roars of cannons had been getting louder and more fre-quent day by day. Jinno didn’t accompany them for some reason. Treading on the path silently, every soldier followed the man in front of him without knowing where he was going. No one spoke, or even thought. It was the easiest way to prepare to rush into a front line.

  But Kasuga was an exception. Groaning under the heavy barrel, he didn’t stop thinking. He asked Tomita, who was walking ahead of him, “Sarge, why didn’t the platoon commander come with us?”

  “Binchoku went to HQ to receive orders,” said Tomita.

  Kasuga let out a deep sigh. It was a downright lie. What orders did Jinno need after he had sent almost all his subordinates in for the battle? It was sad to have a commander so wretched as to spare his own life. Naturally, Tomita should have the same feeling. Kasuga waited for his reply, but Tomita kept walking without comment. He had expected showers of name-calling, so Kasuga changed the topic reluctantly. “Where are we going, Sarge?”

  “Mountain Maeda,” answered Tomita.

  “A weird name.”

  “Yeah, it’s a name of convenience for one of the platoon commanders guarding there. I don’t know the real one.”

  Tomita’s back revealed some resignation. Kasuga understood well Mountain Maeda would be a decisive battlefield.

  They had marched exclusively through jungles to avoid air raids for almost an hour. A hill suddenly came into view. Its presence was strong, as if the whole hill tensed up. Likely it was Mountain Maeda. A dense thicket abruptly dropped in the middle of the hillside; gales from the sea had probably affected it. From this point to the top, a meadow spread out greenly, in spite of the dry season.

  No sooner had Kasuga seen the hill than a distant whiz came and blew part of the hill away. A tremor reached them with a deafening roar. Kasuga instinctively ducked his head. Then he saw the second shell explode at a hem of the thicket, throwing up many broken branches and dirt into the air.

  When Tomita Squad finally arrived at the position set at the foot of the hill, shells had poured down the whole hill. Tomita hollered in the middle of loud reverberations, which sounded like a drum festival.

  “We’re HMG of Jinno Platoon! Where is Sixth Company?”

  “You said what? Sixth Company? We’re Battalion Gun!” hollered back a

  bearded man sticking his head out from one of the foxholes.

  Kasuga found a gun emplacement nearby. It seemed hastily made of sandbags.

  And a toy-like howitzer had been placed demurely in its center.

  Tomita said, “I know who you are! I’m just asking you where Sixth Company is!”

  “I don’t know! Fifth and Sixth are so tangled up around here. Which officer do you need to get in touch with?” asked the bearded soldier.

  “Second Lieutenant Ogino.”

  “He’s on the east side. You’ll find a hill east of Mountain Maeda. It’s long and curved like a banana. He’s guarding a military road running between that mountain banana and here. Bear in mind, many mines are set on the road.”

  Tomita Squad departed at once. Soon they found a firm game trail in the jungle east of Mountain Maeda and took it. Fortunately no shells hit that side; the hostile fire seemed concentrated on the west side of the hill. They got to the road in no time. East of the road, they could see a hill with ridges on both sides pushed out toward them. It looked like a banana, as the bearded man had said.

  “I see some friends ahead!” said Hirono, the hawkeyed man. Soldiers numbering about one squad were running toward them through a sparse woods beside the road—probably drawing back from the front. All of Tomita Squad ran forward to meet them.

  Tomita hollered, “Hi, guys! HMG’s coming!”

  The man at the front of the group raised his head. Judging from the white sash across his chest, he was likely the squad leader. He gave some instruction to one of the soldiers by gesturing and then approached Tomita Squad alone. He was a small man with the insignias of a corporal. The bandage around his head was an indication that he had sustained wounds in battle.

  “Which troop are you in?” Tomita asked him.

  “Engineers. I was setting antitank mines on this military road ahead. But those Gurkha bastards in the point have electric detectors, so we’re just going back to HQ now.”

  “How is the enemy?” Tomita asked.

  “Oh! Really a hard nut to crack! Somebody said Engli were far weaker than Chinese. Damned nonsense! Anyway, nothing can be done until we get rid of those tanks. HQ has some flame throwers, and we’re on our way to fetch them.”

  “A flame thrower? I didn’t know we had such a thing,” Tomita said. “It’s encouraging. Well, we’ve come to reinforce Ogino Platoon. Do you know where Ogino is?”

  “Second Lieutenant Ogino of Sixth Company?” asked the engineer.

  “Yeah, exactly!” replied Tomita.

  “Already killed in action.”

  “What?”

  “A bomb hit him this morning. Though I don’t know who is commanding now, Ogino Platoon is still in the northeast part of Mountain Maeda. Go through the woods along the foot of this hill. It won’t take you long at all. Take care! May the war gods be with you all.”

  Booms of cannons could be heard from beyond the hill. They could see a blood stain on the bandage of the corporal as he ran off. Even Kasuga felt ill at ease.

  Making a wry face, Tomita said, “Binchoku didn’t know Ogino had been killed in action. News of an officer KIA half a day ago hasn’t reached the top yet. No doubt those brass hats are getting confused.”

  Tomita Squad single-mindedly advanced through the sparse woods. Suddenly the view widened to an open field of dead grass. Everyone ran with a stoop not to be sighted. A large grass fire was burning on the far left side, probably caused by incendiaries dropped that morning. Watching the flame consume the dead grass, they turned left along the edge of the woods and went on.

  “Halt! Who goes there? Identify yourselves!” somebody yelled at them unexpectedly in clear Japanese.

  They turned around, reacting to this sudden challenge, and found a small bunker on their left. Two muzzles pointed at them from the dark hole. A bayonet fixed on each rifle was purposefully smeared with a cinder to reduce the possibility of being discovered due to light reflecting off the shiny surface.

  “Hey, you kids!” Tomita bawled at the sentries. “Do you know who on earth you’re talking to? We are the HMG Tomita Squad! Announce us to your commander, pronto.”

  “Please, wait here a minute,” the sentry said as he turned. The muzzles then disappeared.

  The bunker seemed connected with a communication trench. Kasuga heard noisy footsteps of the soldier reporting. After a while, a suntanned man wearing a sword jumped out from a bush at the foot of the hill and came running toward them.

  “It’s you, Keiichi Tomita! I’m glad to have you. Really glad to meet you here again!”

  Tomita replied to the suntanned man, “Long time no see, Sergeant Ban. Are you the acting commander here? I would never have dreamed that.”

  Kasuga felt a sense of relief that Tomita and this sergeant were acquainted. He knew it was not easy to make war beside utter strangers. But, with this chance meeting, Kasuga thought his squad leader would finally be pumped up enough to fight to the limit. Kasuga trembled with excitement.

  Ban said, “A damned Consoli’s bomb hit and killed Second Lieutenant Ogino this morning. He was a nice officer. How cruel for such a young guy to get killed so easily. The bombing also slaughtered many
draftees at the same time. Everyone had a wife and kids.”

  Tomita nodded. “You bet.”

  “But it’s encouraging to get your help. The enemy is attacking the west side of this hill. Some will come at us for sure, along that military road, before long. It’s a battle to avenge. If those disgusting tanks come, we’ll smash them by busting them at close range. An antitank gun is waiting for them east of the military road. It would give us a second string to our bow. Thank you for your support.”

  Ban’s eyes were nearly filled with tears. And the hostile shelling never ceased during their conversation.

  The place indicated by Ban was at a lower quarter of the hill. Kasuga found a covered bunker with an especially terrible roof. Somebody had made it using only bamboo-palisades and dirt. Ogino and his men had apparently made a drastic conversion in a hurry.

  However, the position itself wasn’t so bad. If the enemy advanced along the military road, the sparse grove of teak beside the road would obstruct their field of vision for a period of time. Meanwhile, a gunner in the bunker could look out over not only the road but all the open field.

  A model ninety-six light machine gun had been set in the emplacement, and two soldiers were busying themselves doing maintenance on it. When they watched Tomita Squad carry in and assemble its HMG, boyish smiles broke out on their dust-and-oil-smeared faces.

  A fire trench dug in double extended ahead from left to right. It was dotted with the Ogino Platoon riflemen wearing camouflage nets covered with dead grass. Many bundles of armor-piercing mines laid beside them. Ban came running along the trench and climbed into the bunker. “Tomita, our scout has just come back. Indian troops with tank support are on their way on this very road, as expected. You and your men will provide cover,” said Ban.

  Chances were good that this would be the last conversation between the two in this world. Tomita knew it well, and a rather sad smile appeared on his face.

  “Leave it to me. I wish you good and long luck!” replied Tomita.

  “You too!” Ban hollered. Then he turned and slithered down the slope with an animal agility, vanishing from their view in the twinkling of an eye. As if replac-ing him, a thick cloud of yellow dust rose on the other side of the grove. Kasuga held his breath.

  Soaring and billowing, the yellow cloud gradually closed in and wrapped up the teak grove. A huge dark green mass loomed up from it. It was a figure of an enemy tank, which Kasuga was seeing for the first time.

  Showing off their stout bodies—as big as two-storey houses and kicking dust up frantically—three tanks came dashing down the road. Judging from the seventy-five-millimeter main gun protruding from the body, it was not an M4, but an M3 type. Whichever it might be, the Japanese’s humble armor-piercing ammunition was no match. Hostile infantries advanced in a queue behind the tanks, hiding them in the cloud of dust—no less than two platoons.

  “Fix bayonets!” A sonorous voice of command came from the lower right, followed by many clinking sounds.

  Eight soldiers crept out by ones and twos from a trench at the front row. The party was led by two men, each holding a bamboo pole on which a model ninety-three mine was bound. The other six men were carrying bundles of armor-piercing mines. Everyone was stealthily crawling in grass toward the road to blow the tanks up. The others worriedly saw the tank-busters off, with their rifles at the ready in the trench.

  An armor-piercing mine looked like a tortoise. Each of its four legs had a magnet, to stick the mine directly on the armor. However, specifications showed that a bundle of five mines was the minimum needed to destroy an M3 middle tank effectively. No one knew whether it was possible to stick the bundle five times heavier than normal to a moving armor properly. If it didn’t work, a soldier’s body would substitute for magnets.

  Busting with a model ninety-three mine was much the same. A buster must sneak up to a tank and make it stamp on the mine by sticking the pole forward.

  The only thing protecting his life from the explosion was the distance of a few meters, earned by the length of the bamboo pole. Either way, it was close to a suicide mission, but the Japanese had no other options anymore.

  Suddenly the leading tank opened fire. The shell burst in the middle of the hill with an earsplitting sound. From the hole, Kasuga saw innumerable clods of earth pouring down. A few seconds later, a second shell exploded. This time, it was much closer to their bunker. The negative pressure blew off the feeble ceiling, and the broad sky appeared overhead. Two young LMG men got rattled. “Sergeant, do you want us to fire?” one of them asked.

  Hirono answered back instead of Tomita. “Stupid! We’re still safe. Only a recon in force! They’ve not found this bunker yet.” Although scared, each member of Tomita Squad kept his composure.

  As soon as Kasuga heard another kind of cannon’s roar rip the air from the direction of mountain banana, a sharp metallic sound reverberated ahead. The antitank gun, lurking somewhere in the east of the military road, had opened fire, though everyone had forgotten its existence until then. With low-pitched whizzes, armor-piercing, high-explosive shells hit the targets, one after another. The thick tank armors repelled them all, but this strike might have surprised them to some extent, since three tanks came to a sudden stop. Attendant infantries fled beyond the military road. Trying to find the position of the antitank gun, the leading tank sluggishly began turning to compensate for the narrowness of its firing angle. In the number two tank, an Indian man sticking his head out of the hatch was giving directions to the leading one in a loud voice. He was close enough to guarantee a perfect hit if somebody tried sniping from the bunker.

  This gave the tank-busting soldiers a rare opportunity. As long as the tanks were stopped, they could carry out their mission much easier. Kasuga watched the scene in breathless suspense. Tomita spoke to him from behind. “Did you sight the gun on the road, Kasu?”

  “Yes, I did,” replied Kasuga.

  “Good. Be sure not to hit any friends. Aim higher than the bogie wheels of the tank.”

  Kasuga held grips and stared at the road through the gun sight. Soon he saw the helmets of several Japanese tank-busters moving stealthily in the undergrowth of the grove. The spearheadhad already reached the foot of the first tank.

  Quite unexpectedly, the enemy soldiers around the rearmost tank went into action. Almost all of the Indian soldiers kept squatting or lying on the ground, but some dared to thread their way through tanks and tree trunks. Pointing to the grove clearly, the leading guy was throwing his arm about. The enemy might have discovered the tank-busters. They shouldn’t allow the Indians to storm into the grove, so quick as a flash, Ban bellowed an order: “Fire!”

  Each rifleman in the trench opened fire, jerking a bolt in a flurry. The Indians were frightened at the fusillade of Ogino Platoon and hurriedly fled in all directions.

  “Don’t shoot yet!” Tomita warned.

  Kasuga looked back. Tomita’s cool look indicated that he was seeking the best time to strike. He was holding back LMG men with his left arm stretching horizontally.

  “If we fire rashly and by any chance those damned tanks retreat, our tank-busters will come to a standstill. They’ll die on their feet without success,” Tomita said.

  The enemy, once panicked, had recovered its balance to find Japanese fire limited to mere not-so-fierce rifles. Hiding themselves behind tanks or the edge of the road, Indians started striking back vehemently with automatic rifles. A din of gunfire prevailed over the field. A painful scream burst out from the Japanese trench ahead, followed by a comrade’s frantic voice, calling out for a medic.

  Taking advantage of every short pause of fire, several Indians came rushing to get into the grove. Everyone had a submachine gun, the superb weapon for a charge. It was the very moment Tomita had been waiting for, and he allowed them to attack. “Now! Let them have it!”

  Kasuga silently pushed the trigger with both thumbs.

  The ninety-two HMG howled again and again. The light machine gun al
so opened fire. High-pitched, lively clatters mixed with the bass stuttering of the HMG. Countless streaks of bullets crossed the field and descended upon the road.

  Kasuga saw one of the Indians who had rushed toward the grove fall over, and the rest flew off in a hurry to hide themselves behind tanks. Then he whisked the muzzle a little and adjusted the line of fire on the turret of the second tank. While hearing the clinks of ricocheting bullets, he saw the Indian tank man falling down into the turret.

  Kasuga continued pressing the trigger desperately.

  The combined sweep from two machine guns was crushing. Hostile return fire stopped in a moment. The leading tank, which the antitank gun had diverted, seemed to notice them and began resetting its stance. The moment it turned back to them, something flashed at the foot of it, and an earth tremor traveled to the bunker. The tank didn’t stop turning around, trailing a streak of smoke from the mine blast. Wriggling like a gigantic serpent, the cut Caterpillar was coming off its bogie wheels. The tank had lost control of itself. It slithered down into a hollow beside the road and toppled over, crushing many saplings.

  A great cheer went up from the soldiers of Ogino Platoon.

  “Charge! Charge!” Ban’s command reached the bunker. It wasn’t certain how many tank-busters were wounded, but it was likely that at least the one buster who had succeeded in stalling the tank had been killed. They must capture the tank and deliver the finishing blow to the enemy to make his self-sacrifice worthwhile.

  Kasuga turned his eyes to the field of dead grass.

  “Hachiman!”

  Chanting the name of ancient war god, Ogino Platoon charged. Many figures emerged from the trench. Led by Ban, who had already drawn his sword, the soldiers with bayonet-attached rifles made a dash for the grove in rows. But their destination had already gotten hazy with smoke; apparently an enemy soldier toward the rear, having witnessed his tank stall, had fired smoke shells into the grove.