Dragon of the Mangrooves

by Yasuyuki Kasai

  It was a grave matter how to treat remains of war dead. They should either recover remains from a battlefield and return them promptly to his family, or they should cremate them somewhere appropriately, even when the situation didn’t allow full procedures. And they must take back some bones, however few they might be. It was the minimum requirement for the family of someone who devoted his life to the empire.

  However, as war casualties piled up, it became impossible to work things out properly anymore. A rumor was going around that bereaved Japanese families were getting cinerary urns containing only a sheet of paper on which the words,

  “A Soul of a War Hero,” were written instead of ashes. Those rumors made soldiers very gloomy.

  “It’s one of Hirono’s finger bones. I have another, also. I made time and burned his hand to ashes during the retreat. I dug in a small tunnel and burned it there with tapers, so no smoke would be seen. It took time because I had a lot of other guys’ hands. We all lived close. You or me, whichever of us survives, had better give it to his family. Right?” said Tomita seriously.

  Kasuga gave a deep nod. He took his hat off for Tomita’s tough sense of responsibility, a reputation he deserved. Kasuga felt ashamed of his rashness, having doubted Tomita’s courage before.

  He was reluctant to keep ashes in that seemingly endless war, in which his own death was taking on reality day by day. But he thought he had to do it, for Hirono’s survivors. And it assured him that not only he, but also Tomita, were keeping the ashes.

  Tomita Squad had suffered a nasty blow in Mountain Maeda. The shelling had destroyed their machine gun there. It had killed four, including Hirono and the young LMG man beside them, and had wounded many others, as well. It was nearly a total destruction. Kasuga still had a splinter lodged in his right thigh. But Tomita hadn’t even been scratched. Considering the situation around then, it was almost a miracle. Kasuga believed that Buddha had protected his squad leader.

  Even if something should happen to Kasuga himself, Tomita would survive and deliver the ashes—not only to Hirono’s family, but also to his own; Kasuga had confidence.

  British-Indian forces had mastered the area around Mountain Maeda, and now they were debouching into Payadgi Plain. Mechanized troops were on military roads—improved by the Japanese, quite ironically—and pressing hard toward Ramree Town, the point of strategic importance.

  One of those debouching forces had blocked the Japanese line of retreat.

  Ogino Platoon had lost Sergeant Ban in the antitank battle and had been led by a young corporal. Together with these Ogino’s men, the survivors of Tomita Squad, including Kasuga, had been kicked into a valley and isolated.

  They had been worrying about the future for a good while, when an orderly came to bring them an evacuation order ten days before. According to the order, Tomita Squad was allowed to return to its home unit, Machine Gun Company.

  However, neither Kasuga nor Tomita had known where the company HQ were, although they had begun drawing back from Mountain Maeda. They had lost touch with Second Lieutenant Jinno, the platoon commander, since February 4. Perplexed about what to do, they had gotten information from one of the soldiers of Fifth Company overtaking them on the way about a week before. The soldier had said the battalion HQ had completed its retreat and that soldiers had gathered in the all-round defense position at Hill 509, north of Ramree Town.

  He had also suggested that Machine Gun Company also might have been there.

  An all-round defense position was a stronghold where troops, resolute to die, put up their final resistance. They often called it “hara-kiri position.” That news had immediately put Tomita Squad under extreme tension.

  Still called a squad, Tomita Squad had become a small group consisting of Kasuga; Tomita, their leader; First Class Private Tada, their agile and shrewd gunner of short body; and Superior Private Kayama, the only unscathed ammo bearer. The others hadn’t accompanied them because all had been killed or carried to the rear with severe injuries that had not allowed them to walk. Though stretcher bearers had carried them to a field hospital, it probably wasn’t in working order in that upside-down situation. Sufficient medical care was out of the question. Injured men’s hope of evacuating the island alive was very slim.

  Kasuga and his colleagues had been resolved to their fate, more or less. But they couldn’t help falling into a dismal mood to learn that fighting to the death was inevitable. When Tomita Squad had reluctantly started moving toward Hill 509 north of Ramree Town, British-Indian forces had already made an incessant onslaught of Japanese rear guard hiding in the mountains around Payadgi-Ramree Road. It had been perilous, so it had taken as long as two days to cut through Payadgi Plain, hiding along the way.

  When Kasuga and the others had gotten to Hill 509 five days before, he could see many soldiers squatting in foxholes all over the place.

  Kasuga then had heard that Machine Gun Company had taken up its position further east in Letpan Hill 300. It was a place named for its elevation and a village nearby. Nevertheless, without maps, the only thing they could get at the time was its rough location.

  After wandering in jungles, they had gotten to Hill 300. Kasuga had heaved a sigh of relief on the spot. Then they had finally spotted MG Company, only to learn it had already prepared for another position change to Saikpya Village, further northeast. So nobody even cared for them, after all. Done enough, they had been lying exhausted on the ground until Second Lieutenant Jinno came out at sunset.

  Just as expected, Jinno had been sticking to MG Company HQ, the comparatively safer spot. He hadn’t given even one word of comfort to his subordinates who had survived and traveled from the hard-fought battlefield of Mountain Maeda.

  Not only that, he had called them all kinds of names for having discarded their machine gun. Abruptly, he had given them a new shifting order to Yanthitgyi.

  Haphazardly, Tomita Squad had been forced to go back fruitlessly to Yanthitgyi Hill 604 located further west of Hill 509—arriving there on February 12, the next day.

  Kasuga took out his mess kit from a niche dug inside his foxhole at Yanthitgyi Hill 604 and put Hirono’s ashes in the inner tray beneath the cover. The mess kit was one piece of equipment he would never throw away, no matter how the war situation might deteriorate.

  Kasuga put it back in the niche and looked around the mud wall. He had dug that foxhole by himself in a hurry amid the shower of hostile shells, just after he and his colleagues had moved around from one place to another and finally gotten to Hill 604. He had never dreamed he would spend four days here. He took advantage of the rain squall, which nicely softened the soil three days before, making it more comfortable. No orders came, and he had nothing else to do.

  “How long should we stay here, Sarge? Tell me if you know something about the war situation,” Kasuga said.

  Tomita was on the way out of the foxhole, but he looked back. Serenity appeared on his face.

  “To tell you the truth,” Tomita explained, “garrison HQ decided that we, Second Battalion, would evacuate Ramree Island and go back to the continent.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, HQ released a damn order to remain and keep guerilla wars here, but it was pulled back. The evacuation is an official decision.”

  If Hirono were still alive, he would weep for joy. Though it was hard to believe, Kasuga also found some indications that it might be true.

  The hostile bombardment hadn’t been so fierce, unlike the Battle of Mountain Maeda when they got to Yanthitgyi. He thought maybe it was a result of Japanese resistance. Ramree Garrison was one battalion—it might be like ants trying to fight against an elephant, compared with the overwhelming firepower and material superiority of British-Indian forces. But nearly as many as a thousand men were still guarding that island. Kasuga didn’t think they had ever suffered enough damage to lose power of the systematized resistance. Apparently, the garrison was holding back its counterattack.

  Tomita squatted down
in front of him again and talked in an unusual, grave tone. But his face showed joy. “Have you ever thought why MG Company HQ is in Saikpya, and we’re here in Yanthitgyi now?”

  “No, I’ve not.”

  “Both places face the continent. You know? If we’re to keep fighting more, we should position toward Payadgi Plain. It has many strategic points, including Ramree Town. Frankly, we must defend this area in the first place.”

  “But we are sending out raiders to enemy positions every night, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a matter of form to look good. There’s no bloody fool who will take it serious when the top is planning to run away to the continent.”

  “From where?”

  “The starting point of this withdrawal operation will be here in Yanthitgyi.

  The strait is narrowest here. After it takes as many soldiers as possible in Saikpya, MG Company will head for Yanthitgyi with other troops. That’s why Binchoku made us come here first as heralds. Binchoku probably judged that going to Saikpya would be for nothing. He’s surely a witty guy, the slyest dog in the country.”

  “Do you mean the whole MG Company will come here after all?”

  “Yeah, exactly. Binchoku might have said he’d dispatched an advance party of his own free will, or something to that effect, to make his point again. But it was good for you as well to have escaped carrying the baggage of HQ, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was. But I can’t even imagine how we will sail across to the continent. Do we have any boats?”

  “A flotilla of about a hundred fishing boats was to come and rescue us in the night of February 11. I heard several Nakajima type one fighters also mobilized to attack Engli destroyers blockading the strait.”

  Kasuga remembered hearing the buzz of planes at midnight on the very day when he had squatted down in a trench of the all-round defense position in Hill 509. He thought hearing the buzz of planes curious, because he knew enemy planes didn’t usually perform night attacks. But he never expected that it was friendly aircraft. He had seldom seen Japanese planes on Ramree Island, to say nothing of hearing them. He had no way of telling the difference.

  “What has become of the boats?” asked Kasuga.

  Tomita mumbled, “Well, I’ve heard Engli gunboats were lurking in the shadows…”

  “I see.”

  “…and sent them all to the bottom.”

  “Oh, no!”

  Kasuga felt low. The way things stood, a withdrawal operation like that would be nothing more than a pie in the sky. Tomita must have noticed Kasuga’s thoroughly disheartened expression, because his tone of voice softened and regained its usual friendly manner.

  “Don’t worry, Kasu. It’s not more than a creek through mangroves, though everybody calls it a sea. They say Myinkhon Creek is so shallow that we can wade it across when the tide is down. Anyway, we will have no problem swimming across when it comes to the push. We don’t need those sick boats.”

  Suddenly, a sharp voice came into the foxhole. “Sergeant Tomita of Machine Gun Fifth Platoon. Where are you?” somebody was yelling outside.

  The voice had the authoritative tone of an officer. The troop positioned around Yanthitgyi Hill 604 was the old Sixth Company, but the voice was unfamiliar.

  Tomita hung his head and sighed. Patting Kasuga’s shoulder, he agilely jumped out of the foxhole and vanished into the nearby jungle.

  Kasuga resumed hulling rice and ruminated over the conversation. Tomita, as an NCO, knew more than most. It was probably true that the evacuation to the continent was going on. But Kasuga wondered what an army could do when they plunged into the sea without boats. He had never seen Myinkhon Creek. He couldn’t guess whether wading was easily possible without knowing how deep and wide the creek was.

  “Hey, Kasu. Prepare for mobilization. Hull your rice later.”

  He looked up and saw Tomita again. It hadn’t been more than five minutes since he had left. It seemed an emergency had arisen.

  Kasuga hastily gathered his equipment. Scraping up his only three grenades, he ran after Tomita.

  Tada and Kayama were already waiting for them at the hem of the jungle.

  Tomita Squad assembled in full force after a four-day interval. Tomita started a briefing in a more formal tone than usual.

  “First Lieutenant Kishimoto, the Fifth Company commander, has been missing in action since he went reconnoitering Myinkhon Creek a few days ago.

  From now until tomorrow at daybreak, we are to set out in search of him. However, we have no hope during the night. So we must find him before dark.” It was nearly four o’clock, so not so much time was left until sunset.

  “How are the enemy’s movements in Myinkhon Creek?” Kasuga asked. He couldn’t restrain his uneasiness.

  “There is no potent enemy around. But we may encounter gunboats patrolling creeks. All of you must look out for them.”

  “Why do we HMG men have to search for the rifle company commander?

  What is the command section of Fifth Company doing now?” Kayama inquired.

  This spectacled, fat soldier was always candid.

  Tada added, “This is the responsibility of Sixth Company in the first place, isn’t it? Those riflemen of Sixth should go first.”

  As privates, their objections went unheeded. But they all knew they could be forced to wander through totally unknown mangroves all through the night.

  “Shut up!” Tomita shouted. But somehow his eyes showed pleasure rather than anger. “Here is special news for your ears only. Don’t tell anyone else,”

  Tomita whispered, which made the others lean forward. “Our troops will escape from the island within a couple of days.”

  Kasuga watched Tada and Kayama open their mouths in unison. He wasn’t certain if they were merely surprised or delighted.

  Tomita continued, “However, Sixth Company won’t take part in this withdrawal operation. Those simpletons nicely say they’ll stay behind and build up a guerilla front. We’ve known them for a long time. If things go wrong, they may keep us with them on this damned island. So it’s far better for us to stick with the Fifth, isn’t it? The company commander himself has gone recon. Of course, guys of the command section are making a frantic search for him now. Let’s help them and curry their favor.”

  “Huh?” said Kayama, with a puzzled look.

  “How many years have you worked under Binchoku? You might follow the example of that shit-face. Even if we can’t find him, at least we will know what route we should take.”

  Tomita Squad set out quietly. Kasuga and the others descended a gentle slope in the jungle and came across a dense bamboo thicket. Now they stood at the foot of Yanthitgyi Hill 604.

  Kasuga picked one of the grenades from his belt and checked its safety pin.

  Then he dangled it from his neck to be able to throw it fast, in case of emergency.

  Although Tomita said no enemies were there, some reconnaissance patrols might have advanced while they had stagnated in Yanthitgyi. He needed to keep his eyes wide open.

  Originally, no rifles had been issued to them. Having lost the machine gun, they were now next to totally unarmed. Tada, the man with a sure nose for everything, had gotten his hands on a model thirty-eight 6.5-millimeter rifle from somewhere—maybe he hunted for it among the war dead. However, to see the rifle so smeared with mud and rust, everyone believed it ready for the scrap heap.

  It did not look trustworthy. Other than that, only Tomita, the squad leader, had a government-issued semiautomatic pistol. Those were all of guns they had. And Kasuga had nothing but his three grenades.

  Palm trees appeared in the bamboo thicket. When Kasuga realized, they were walking in the middle of a vast community of nipa palm. It might be a hinterland of mangrove. The air around them was damp, indicating that the sea was close.

  Kasuga lost his breath many times. It was all he could do to keep up with the queue. They had thrown out their broken ninety-two HMG in Mountain Maeda when they had evacu
ated there. Kasuga had been released from the toil of the machine gun conveyance ever since. However, getting rid of the pain was another matter. Malaria, which he had developed on this island, might be attacking him again; he felt feverish. Even his steps were faltering now.

  Salt-tolerant trees replaced the nipa palm which had hindered their trek with its sharp-edged leaves. The odor of the sea drifted toward them. They had apparently broken into the mangrove at last.

  Big evergreen trees grew as far as Kasuga’s eyes could see. Each was supported by many prominent roots rising up from the ground. Layer upon layer of interwoven branches shut out almost all sunlight. It was quite a dark and damp place.

  Innumerable vertical roots, like bamboo shoots, protruded from the mud of the ground, which turned into the bottom of a sea when the tide was high. It was hard to find a spot to step on next.

  It reminded Kasuga of the land of the dead at first sight. But the natural vitality hanging over the area was dense and strong. Birdcalls mixed with the rustles of leaves in the breeze. On the ground, brightly colored crabs ran hurriedly, and sometimes mudskippers romped among them. Every so often, he saw a small snake of black and yellow coil around a branch decorated with glossy, thick leaves. Since it might be poisonous, Kasuga tensed up every time he had to pass one. But the most annoying nuisance was a large swarm of mosquitoes. They rushed not only to his exposed skin, but also into his mouth, nostrils, and ears.

  Kasuga toppled over many times in the mud. He was completely terrorized to think that the safety of his grenade might come off by the force of impact.

  This place was almost the far end of the earth. It was not likely that the enemy could advance in such an area. He couldn’t imagine a more inappropriate place for a war than this. He tucked the grenades into his haversack.

  He continued to trip and slip on countless entangled roots and in soft bottom-less mud. Each time it consumed what little he had left of his physical power.

  Even worse, the wound from the mortar shell in the Battle of Mountain

  Maeda might have opened again. Kasuga found blood staining the new bandage he had wrapped around his right thigh that morning. The iron blade inside his flesh grated every time he took a step.