“Easy,” Remy warned. “Your guts aren’t accustomed. Take it slow.” They ignored him with packed cheeks. Remy considered repeating his advice to Tal, but up to this point experience had been a better parent than he. Remy gave the boy half his own lunch to speed the process along.
With the meal done, Donnelly and Bascom, Tal, the girls, and Remy headed for the main gate. “Keep a muzzle on her,” Remy said to Bascom, passing the guards. “No need to poke these fellas.” The Irishman brought his free hand to his lips to shush Yumi.
The path ran northwest through uncut grass and an orchard. Fruit trees and high bamboo shaded the walking party. They crossed into the deep ravine, then emerged onto a paved surface. Isolated huts stood along the road. In small fields, children at play chased chickens, lean horses swatted flies with their tails. Elderly folk shied into the shadows of their homes, afraid of Westerners walking freely past, even with no Japanese nearby. Donnelly waved at the frightened Filipinos. The others tossed pebbles into the woods and wet paddies. The boys tugged at each other to start tussles and horseplay. The hike continued in high spirits.
Ten minutes out of camp, lunch struck. Bascom’s face twisted, and he laid a hand on his belly. Yumi hung on gamely while the boy sprinted for the cover of a large bush off the road. When the girl realized what he was doing she ran back to Carmen’s open arms, chattering and indignant. Tal was hit next. He disappeared into the shrubs to catcalls from the rest, including Remy.
Another half mile along the road, they entered Anos, a village on the bay, one mile east of the town of Los Baños. A fleet of tricycle rickshaws pedaled out to greet them. Remy paid for rides to a Sunday bazaar at the heart of the hamlet. Donnelly kept up his regal waving. Despite their arrival in a noisy fleet, which Carmen especially enjoyed, the vendors of the bazaar received them reluctantly. No one would show their wares. An aged man approached, a battered bowler on his brown noggin. In Tagalog he explained to Carmen that the whites should return to the camp. Anos was just a small village. Makipilis were everywhere and would cause trouble so long as the Japanese were on Luzon. Remy said they would go, but first they wanted to buy clothes for the girls. Could they please do this?
The old man passed his arms across the many merchants waiting for his word. He called out, “Siggy, siggy!” Carmen translated, “Hurry, hurry”
Villagers ringed Remy and his charges, brandishing scarves, silk blouses, woven slacks, straw sandals. Remy dug out twenty pesos. He handed the bills above the shorter Filipino heads to Tal.
“Get a chicken and some eggs!”
Remy pulled Yumi and Carmen close. “Pick anything you want.” Carmen waded into the crowd, holding Yumi’s hand. She ordered the pressing men and women to line up and show their goods in an organized fashion. Remy stood aside. He put ten pesos in Donnelly’s palm.
He said. “How ‘bout another batch?”
The Aussie and Bascom faded into the bazaar to buy the makings for another few gallons of bomber lotion.
The order Carmen imposed on the villagers fell apart after Yumi made a choice, a sky blue top with pearl buttons. The other sellers saw their chances dwindle and squeezed tighter on all sides, lifting their wares high in a swirl of pastels and pleas. More villagers held aloft caged birds, dried fruits and peppers, carved icons of Mary and Jesus, any item they might sell. They drove forward, packing the girls inside the throng. Carmen selected a pair of black slacks and a pink top. The merchants turned on Yumi. The little girl vanished in a whirlpool of pants and shoes and the dark mop heads of the villagers. Carmen, holding her own purchases, got separated from Yumi’s side. She waved at Remy in concern. He waded in too late.
The little girl’s scream parted the crowd. Yumi, hands clutched to her face, bolted through the rift, away from the bazaar. Remy chased her down behind a bamboo hut. Carefully, he took a knee, soothing her with shushes and whispers of “It’s all right.” He reached to wrap her in his arms. The girl recoiled.
Carmen hurried around the corner of the hut. Yumi jabbered and took her hand.
“Leave her with me, Remy. Please.”
“What happened?”
Carmen sat in the shade of the hut. She took tiny Yumi into her lap. “I can’t explain.”
Remy extended a hand to Yumi. The girl, soothed by Carmen, allowed his stroke under her chin.
“Try me.”
Carmen laid her cheek on the crown of Yumi’s head. “The crowd was too much for Yumi. Almost for me.”
“Why?”
“It’s ...” Carmen searched for words. “Being touched. It’s ... difficult.”
“But Yumi held my hand. She put a death grip on Bascom. You and Tal hold hands.”
“We make ourselves do it. We practice, Yumi and me. To try and remember what affection feels like. It’s hard. And I’m afraid it will always be hard.”
Remy, heart-struck, rested his hand behind Carmen’s neck. The girl closed her eyes, as if to study the feel of it. Yumi, wrapped by Carmen, shut her eyes, too.
Remy stood. “Well have to go soon. I’ll pay for the clothes, then come get you.”
“Please,” Carmen said, “one more thing. Could you buy some white cotton socks.”
“Sure. What for?”
“Yumi has begun to bleed. We have no napkins.”
Remy returned to the bazaar to pay for the selected clothes. He added emerald slacks for Yumi, barely larger than a child’s size, and three pairs of white socks. The cost came to forty pesos. He found Tal and the rest, explaining only that Yumi had gotten scared of the pressing crowd, she was fine. Donnelly carried a mesh net of guavas, bananas, and mangoes, Bascom a basket of eggs. Tal held a live, squawking chicken by the neck.
Remy said, “Kill that thing.”
“You kill it.”
“Why me? You’re the one who used to steal Toshiwara’s chickens.”
“Someone else always killed them.”
Remy asked if anyone would wring the bird’s neck. No one stepped up. The chicken made a flapping ruckus in Tal’s grip. Carmen approached, towing a pacified Yumi. Remy handed the little Korean girl her bright new clothes and the socks, winking. Remy offered Carmen her new outfit. She tossed the clothes over her shoulder.
She gestured to the chicken. “Is that a pet?”
Unsure, Tal said, “No.”
Carmen took the screeching bird. With three flips of her wrist, she swung the chicken by the neck, then snapped away its head. This she threw to a mangy dog skulking nearby. Carmen held the chicken’s body until it stilled, then inverted it to let the blood drain out. She returned the inert feathers to Tal.
The boy stood stunned. The others moved first, heading away from Anos. Passing him, they patted Tal on the shoulders.
“Okay,” they said, “she’s all yours. Great gal. Good luck.”
~ * ~
For the trip back to camp, they ignored the rickshaws, enjoying the free, sunny stroll. The girls walked together, far in front. Tal clutched the headless bird. He and Donnelly prattled about the chicken dinner they would devour tonight, stomachs be damned. Bascom opined on what flavor bomber lotion Donnelly should brew up. The sun had dropped off past its noon apex; the road lay in the shade of the chirping jungle, then the bamboo and the orchard.
Inside the wire, two thousand internees sat outside their barracks in homemade chairs and on blankets, as if for a festival. Older folks shaded themselves under straw hats, youngsters cavorted with native children, couples reclined beside picnics of canned vegetables and fresh fruit. Filipinos wandered the grounds selling tobacco, coffee, bread, and greens.
The radio the Japanese had abandoned had been repaired. A broadcast of MacArthur’s Radio Freedom from his command post in the Philippines was scheduled over the loudspeaker in thirty minutes. The whole camp gathered for its first shot of unfettered news.
Donnelly took the chicken, saying he’d get it cooked for dinner. Remy unhitched himself from Yumi, handing her off again to Carmen. The girls snuck away to p
ut on their new clothes.
Tal and Remy spread blankets under the dao for the four of them to wait for the broadcast. Lazlo came by and, in front of the girls, demanded the chance to win back his money. Remy, with liberation closer and less need to appease everyone in the camp, told Lazlo to go away. The fat man slouched off.
At 3:00 p.m., the loudspeakers crackled with the voice of Douglas MacArthur. The internees applauded wildly. The old man sounded good and resolved, like he was holding a full house and eager to lay it down. Remy swore to lose his shirt to him next time they played if MacArthur would come get them out of here. The general offered his welcome to those struggling and surviving around the Pacific rim. He told them to do their best to sustain hope and the fight for freedom, then turned the broadcast over to the news.
Most of what Remy heard, he already knew from the crystal set. MacArthur had been placed in command of all U.S. ground forces in the Pacific and Nimitz was in charge of all naval forces. Preparations were being made for assaults on Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and the main islands of Japan. The British were making headway on Burma. No American forces had yet landed on Luzon, but air operations against Formosa were paving the way.
The internees cheered, until a sobering report quieted them. The battles in Europe’s winter were not going so well. Germany was mounting a stubborn and bloody defense, particularly in the Ardennes. The high spirits of the camp dampened, especially among the five hundred Europeans. The mood soared again when the announcer returned to the Pacific War. Three American task forces were closing in on Luzon. A landing appeared imminent; the reporter cited the New Year’s Eve bombing of Los Baños’s rail yards. The internees roared themselves hoarse. Under the dao tree, Remy, Tal, and the girls joined hands and danced in a circle.
Before dinner, Donnelly and Bascom arrived with the chicken browned and aromatic. The bird was divvied up among the six of them. An hour later, they ate again in No. 12, a hearty camp stew featuring the commandant’s prized Brahman bull. This was a short-sighted butchery; the committee now needed to find another beast to haul firewood. The bull had fallen victim to the euphoria of the day. Hauling wood was for tomorrow.
After the meal, all the internees returned to their outdoor seats for another transmission, a KGEX broadcast of Roosevelt’s State of the Union speech recorded yesterday, January 6.
The violet gloaming behind Mount Makiling settled over a more composed camp than during the sunlit hours. The internees’ precarious situation seemed to be sinking in. No children gallivanted, no couples laughed and lounged, even the missionaries seemed restrained in their thanks to the Almighty. The Japanese were gone from the camp, but not from the island. The war still had to be brought to them on Luzon. Judging from radio reports describing the ferocious marine landings of the past year on Kwajalein, Truk, New Guinea, Saipan, and Leyte, the invasion of Luzon promised to be hard fought and grisly. The Japanese around Los Baños would not lay down their arms, not alive anyway, and no one supposed they would simply surrender the advantage of two thousand Western hostages. The camp couldn’t expect to be spared from the coming crossfire; even the bombs fell hazardously close. The internees’ hunger may have eased, but not their danger.
In the spreading dusk, when Roosevelt’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers, Remy applauded with the rest. Even though Remy had left the States well before FDR took office, he’d never liked the man. Four terms in office set Remy’s teeth on edge, and he’d never bought into the paternal lectures and patrician cigarette holder.
The camp listened rapt to the opening phrases of FDR’s speech. The president first summed up the condition of the war in Europe, explaining that the most critical phase was at hand: taking the battle into the German heartland. He praised the Italian campaign, the British, Russians, and French as allies.
Remy whispered to Tal, “Does the old man even know we’re here?” Carmen shushed them both. Yumi lay on her back, dozing.
At last, the speech turned to the war in the Pacific. Roosevelt used grand terms to depict island landings, naval and air battles. American forces had slashed their way close enough to Japan that superfortress bombers were blasting Tokyo itself.
The internees whooped. While the camp sent up hurrahs, Remy grew concerned. Destroying the Japanese capital might sound like a good idea, but Roosevelt wasn’t the one sitting defenseless in the middle of fifty thousand Japanese who might take a mind toward vengeance.
FDR called for sacrifice, for more production, raw materials, weapons research, ammunition, nurses, and “the total mobilization of all our human resources” to win the war. He closed his oration with mention of several domestic initiatives for the U.S. economy. These items lost the attention of the internees, few of whom were thinking about an investment or a job back home.
To Remy’s ear, Roosevelt sounded weary, the speech of a man tallying his winnings and losses before leaving the table. MacArthur called to mind a man raring to go, a power to be reckoned with. Roosevelt sounded like a fellow who wanted to be remembered well.
Remy swatted at a mosquito. The internees gathered their furniture and bed coverings off the ground to make their way indoors. The loudspeakers announced curfew.
Yumi awoke with a snort, nudged by Carmen’s toe. The girl hopped up refreshed and helped Remy gather the blankets off the grass. Tal and Carmen stood aside, aloof and unsure how to let the other go.
Remy handed the balled blankets to Yumi with a soft cuff behind her ear. He raised a finger in her face, meaning “Wait here.” The girl nodded.
“Okay, you two,” he said, approaching Tal and Carmen. “Time to say good night. Talbot, well walk the girls back to their building.” Remy put hands to his hips, anticipating resistance. “Carmen, the Japs might be gone from the camp but they’re not off Luzon. They’re still all around us, and they’re still in Manila. As long as they are, your parents are at risk. I don’t know what that makipili woman is capable of, but I’m betting she can be nasty. She starts talkin’ about you, who knows what the Japs’ll do? So we’re not gonna make her any madder’n she is by you sleepin’ anywhere but your own bed for now. We’ll sort that out soon as we can.”
The boy and girl faced each other quickly, as if trying to decide which of them would mount their defense.
Remy addressed his son. “We broke enough rules today, son. I think we might’ve got a pass because of the new circumstances, but there’s no guarantee that’s gonna continue. Like it or not, we still live in the camp and the committee’s in charge. You break curfew and get caught, missy here will have to visit you in the brig, where Lucas is bound to put you and I can’t stop him. We’ll find a few more rules to break tomorrow, I reckon, but for now, let’s escort these two lovelies back.”
Remy turned on his heel. He took the blankets from Yumi and reached for the girl’s little hand. He strode off at a pace that made her skip beside him. Tal and Carmen followed.
At the main gate, lackadaisical guards in lawn chairs waved the four of them past. Remy halted on the grass beside the animal husbandry building, to let the lagging couple catch up. When they did, Remy set a hand on each girl’s shoulder.
“Ladies, you look stunning in your new outfits.” He acted out this sentiment for Yumi, pointing to her silk blouse, and gave the okay signal. Yumi bounced. “Good night, and it’s a pleasure to know you.” He tipped his fedora, then leaned down to her, pausing to let the girl come to him or not. She shied, like a hummingbird hovering close, before planting a peck on his gray cheek. She hurtled off into the dark.
“Talbot, I’ll wait for you here.”
Carmen pressed lips to her fingertips. She lifted them to Remy’s other cheek. The boy led her away from the gate, to the building. Remy thought to turn his back and let his son kiss her in private, but strained his eyes to see. From what he could tell, Tal did a good job.
On their way back to the barracks, they did not speak. Remy gave the boy a quick hug and walked alongside his glowing son.
~ * ~
<
br /> Chapter Fifteen
A
N HOUR after sunup, a guard stopped Tal at the main gate. The soldier’s uniform was ripped and smoky. He’d seen combat.
The other four guards formed behind him as though Tal, carrying two plates of breakfast, might make trouble.
“No go out,” said the stern-faced guard.
The lawn chairs had been removed. These Japanese were not yesterday’s guards.
“I’m only going there.” Tal pointed to the animal husbandry building, hard by the fence, fifty yards from the gate. “Just taking food to friends. That’s all. Here.” Tal offered the man a plate of greens, rice mush, and beef strips. “You take one.”
A soldier in the rear stepped up, until the one facing Tal barked him back into formation.
He pushed away the offered meal. “No go.”
Broken Jewel - [World War II 05] Page 17
