The Year of Counting Souls

by Wallace, Michael

  “Why not?” Frankie said. “We’ll be loading into the trucks, right? Why can’t we just drive out of here by that back road? We came in by truck, we’ll leave the same way. It can’t be worse than the trip up here. How long until we get to Bataan?”

  “Miss Frankie,” Dr. Claypool said. “Take Clarice. Bundle up the essential supplies, but don’t put them into the trucks yet.”

  “What about them?” Frankie asked Kozlowski with a nod at the two remaining nurses. “Why aren’t they helping?”

  “I need Maria Elena to translate our needs to the villagers,” Kozlowski said smoothly, “and Dr. Claypool has some questions for Louise about the patients.”

  “Hurry, Miss Frankie,” the doctor said. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Maria Elena left with Diego and the alcalde while Frankie and Clarice disappeared into the hospital to set the evacuation into motion.

  “She’s going to find out soon enough,” Louise said to the doctor and the lieutenant.

  “And she’ll have plenty of time to panic when that happens,” Kozlowski said. “Let’s see how much work we can get out of her first.”

  “You’re right about the patients,” Claypool told her. “We’ve got a big problem. What’s to be done about them?”

  “I have no idea.” Louise couldn’t help a glance toward the village, where people were already scurrying about. “I really don’t. Some of those men won’t survive a hike through the jungle, even carried on litters. And supposing we get to the next village. What do we do with the survivors? What do we do without our equipment?”

  “I’ve scouted the road already,” Kozlowski said. “Stay ahead of the Japs and we’ll be okay. We’ll lose them on the mountain trails—it’s a maze up there. The deeper in we go, the harder it will be for them to get at us.”

  “But you haven’t answered my questions,” Louise insisted. “We can’t haul everything out of here by hand. We’ll have to leave cots and bedding. Heck, what about our pressure cookers? How will we sterilize anything? Wherever we go, we’ll have nothing, not even lodging. Is it nipa huts for the lot of them?”

  “All of this is a challenge,” Dr. Claypool said. “But it’s not as bad as you think. There’s another stopping point set up.”

  “You mean another hospital?” Louise asked. “Really?”

  “Well, no. It’s an old missionary school. Run-down, I’m afraid. Makes this hospital look like Massachusetts General.”

  “That’s hard to imagine.”

  “Anyway,” the doctor continued, “we cached a few things before the war, so the situation isn’t hopeless. We’ll be challenged with cots and bedding—that’s true enough. Challenged with everything, to be honest, but we can make it.”

  “How long to get there?” she asked.

  “It will be a slog,” Kozlowski said. “At least two days. Maybe longer.”

  “Two days.” The words hung in the open air, and Louise studied the two men. Their faces were grim. “We’ve got injured soldiers who can’t be hauled two hours through the open air, let alone two days.”

  “I count three men we’ll have to leave behind,” Claypool said. “Rubens worries me the least. He’s an American—he’ll be okay. They’ll take him as a POW.”

  “No, they won’t,” she said. “He’s paralyzed. The enemy won’t carry him out, and they won’t leave him here alive, either.”

  “And the other two are Pinoys,” Claypool added, as if he hadn’t heard her objection. “I don’t know what to do about them.”

  “You know what to do,” Kozlowski told the doctor. “You just don’t want to do it.”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Louise said. “This is nuts. Dr. Claypool, tell him. It’s crazy.”

  “Miss Louise, there’s no other choice,” Claypool said. “The lieutenant is right. There’s no way to keep them from the Japanese, and they won’t survive in the woods.”

  “They’ll have to be left behind,” Kozlowski said.

  “Left behind,” she repeated dully.

  The lieutenant’s face had been set into its usual stern, unsentimental look, like a farmer steeling himself to slaughter his hogs, but now it softened a little. “Maybe we’re wrong, and the enemy will turn around before they get here. But if not, we’ll make sure all three of them have the means to end it. It’s either that, or they fall into enemy hands. This is the best way to save the most men. I know it, the doctor knows it, and you know it, too.”

  Louise took a deep breath. Her gut twisted in knots, but she managed a nod.

  “Now, let’s discuss the Japanese prisoner,” Kozlowski said.

  “The Japanese patient, you mean.” Louise thrust out her chin. “Sammy Mori is in my care, and he’s injured. So if you’re suggesting we do something ugly on our way out of here, you can forget it.”

  “Don’t get soft, Miss Louise,” Kozlowski said. “You’re a war nurse, and you know what happens when an enemy soldier falls into our hands. He’s a prisoner, not a patient. I never begrudged you medical people from giving him care, but don’t you forget that he’s the enemy and always has been. A prisoner, do you understand?”

  “And we have obligations to prisoners, too. Right? Or are you suggesting that we do what the Japanese would do? Have him killed?” She felt herself trembling with agitation. “Are you going to shoot him? Or tell me to give him a lethal dose of something because you can’t face it, knowing you’re murdering a man?”

  Kozlowski blinked. “That’s what you think this is about? Heavens, no.”

  Dr. Claypool put a hand on her arm, a fatherly gesture of concern. “Sammy Mori is well enough to be let loose,” he said. “His abdominal injuries are healing nicely, and his bone is set. There’s nothing left for him to do but recuperate. We thought you would consider your duties done and suggest leaving him here for the Japanese to find.”

  “That’s the part I can’t allow,” Kozlowski said.

  “Oh. Yes, I see.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting we kill him,” he added, “only warning you that he couldn’t be left for the enemy.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I thought that. It’s this war, it’s so cruel.” Louise managed a short laugh. “I know how these things go. You can’t be crying over every death or you’ll never survive—you’ll have a nervous breakdown.”

  “We can’t turn him over to the Japs,” Kozlowski said, as if he was still trying to convince her. “For one, he knows plenty about us. He might give them something useful. For another, he’s one more soldier out of commission. We send him back, and he’ll have a gun in his hand soon enough. We do that and we might be responsible for more American deaths.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  The truth was, Louise wasn’t thinking about leaving him to the enemy. Sammy wouldn’t want to go back—that’s what these two men didn’t know. They didn’t know how he’d reported the Rape of Nanking, or that he’d confessed to his brother, the military police.

  “So we have to take him with us,” the lieutenant said. “Question is, can you keep Mori quiet during the evacuation?”

  “Miss Frankie has complained about you,” Dr. Claypool said. “Most days, in fact, she has something to tell me. Something you’ve done wrong, something you’ve said that she doesn’t like.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You don’t put any stock in it, do you?”

  “Of course not,” Claypool said with a wave of his hand. “Miss Frankie is a complainer by nature. She’ll complain about anything. The point is, she says you’re too close to this soldier. Fraternizing with the enemy. Now hold on, don’t protest. I know it’s nothing—you’re being kind to him the same way you are to Fárez and Rubens and all the rest. The point is,” the doctor added, “you have some rapport with the man, and that makes you most suited to manage him.”

  “Manage in what way? What do you think he’ll do?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Kozlowski said. “Or maybe he hears what’s going
on and tries something.”

  “What sort of something?”

  “Could be anything,” Kozlowski said. “Sabotage, starting a fire to send up smoke. Escaping into the woods. Grabbing someone’s gun. Anything he thinks will help him get back to his own side.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he’ll do that,” Louise said. “In fact, you’re reading him exactly wrong. Sammy is a very depressed man. He blames himself for what he’s seen and done. He doesn’t want to go back to the army. His conscience is hurting him.”

  Kozlowski snorted. “Conscience? You think a Japanese soldier has a conscience?”

  “We’re all born with a conscience, Lieutenant.”

  “Maybe,” Kozlowski said, sounding doubtful. “But if a Jap ever did, if he was born that way, it was drilled out of him. You know they make their officers test their swords on prisoners, right? It’s one of their rules. They sharpen it and behead some innocent villager. Proves their sword, proves their manliness. That’s how they behaved in China, and it’s no doubt how they’re behaving here, too.”

  “That sounds like propaganda,” she said. “I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, I just can’t believe they’re mostly that way. Anyway, Sammy’s not an officer. He’s only a corporal.”

  “Can you take responsibility for him?” Dr. Claypool asked. “That’s the only thing that matters here.”

  “I think so.”

  “You need to do more than think it,” Kozlowski said. “You need to pull on those farm-girl boots and be hardheaded about it. If Mori pulls anything, if he tries to pull anything, you’ve got your eye on him, right?”

  “Yes, sir.” She said it more confidently this time.

  “Good,” the lieutenant said. He gave a curt nod. “Now, enough of this chatting. We’ve got a camp to evacuate. We don’t do that, you’ll get to see if I’m right about head chopping with your own eyes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  They had the hospital camp and the entire village working. Everyone who was capable, from the youngest Filipino children to injured American soldiers, went to work. The nurses identified the critical medical supplies, which the workers hauled into the open air to stack and organize.

  Filipino men loaded the supplies into huge baskets, slung them onto their backs, and trudged up the road as soon as they were ready. This was a great sacrifice, as half the village was planning to evacuate with them, and this meant abandoning many of their own possessions so they could carry material from the hospital.

  Other villagers carted off barrels to bury in the rice paddies in case they were able to smuggle them out later. Miraculously, nobody had yet asked about the trucks and the back road to Bataan, but Louise knew it was only a matter of time.

  Shortly after midnight, they had everyone who could move or be moved out of the hospital into the open air, and a good portion of their supplies out as well. Several men lay on cots, heavily bandaged, missing a foot or leg, or otherwise too sick or injured to walk. The three men who could not be moved remained inside. Louise tried not to think about them.

  Kozlowski gathered the nurses. “I’m sending Miss Louise and Miss Frankie ahead with the most badly injured men. With the slowest, who need as much advance time as possible.”

  “The trucks aren’t traveling together?” Frankie asked.

  “You’re not riding in the truck,” Kozlowski said. “There’s no room for passengers. Please, no argument. Miss Louise will explain when you’re on the road.”

  Louise said nothing, but inwardly she groaned. She understood well enough why the lieutenant was doing it. Frankie would start arguing, and with the evacuation commanding all of their attention, this was the worst time and place to have this discussion.

  The lieutenant cast a glance at Sammy, who leaned against the exterior of the building, away from the men. It was almost dark, and the enemy soldier’s face was hidden in the shadows.

  “We’re taking the Jap?” Frankie asked.

  “We can’t very well send him back to the enemy,” Kozlowski said.

  “We should have left him on the road,” the nurse said. “Never should have helped him in the first place.”

  “But we did,” Louise said. “So there’s nothing to be done for it now.”

  “Sure there is.”

  “Will you be quiet and listen to the lieutenant?” Louise snapped.

  “Maria Elena spoke to the alcalde,” Kozlowski said. “His men will lead you in the dark and carry those who can’t walk.”

  “What about Rubens and the two Filipinos?” Louise asked. “Has anyone spoken to them yet? I should maybe do it before I go.”

  The lieutenant’s expression turned grim. “I did it already. They understand why they can’t go, and what to do if they’re found.” He glanced around at the gathered soldiers and nurses. “That is all. You have your orders. Move.”

  Louise’s advance company consisted of herself, Frankie, four men on litters, eight Filipino litter bearers to carry them, another Filipino carrying a basket strapped to his forehead and an army flashlight in hand to lead them, plus five men on crutches, including Corporal Fárez and Sammy Mori. One scraggly dog with a half tail, a rope around his neck and the other end held tightly in Corporal Fárez’s fist, marched along with the ragtag group.

  Louise and Frankie inched out of town on the road, hobbling along at the pace of the men on crutches. The cargadores would carry the litters ahead, stop to rest while the others caught up, then set off again.

  The two nurses carried bags slung over their shoulders heavy with food and water for their small company, and each had a flashlight. But only Louise had hers on, which she used to illuminate the path ahead.

  “I can’t believe it,” Frankie said. “We’re taking that Jap with us and leaving our own men to die. There’s something wrong with that. And what about the trucks? Why should we have to walk all night? It’s not fair to us as nurses.”

  “It’s going to be a long night if we worry about what’s fair and not,” Louise said. “Anyway, let’s not get the patients worked up, okay?”

  “I’m not complaining, I’m only pointing out facts.”

  They’d passed the stationary trucks about ten minutes ago, but this was the first time that Frankie had mentioned the vehicles aloud, although she’d been sighing loudly since they set out. Louise carefully kept her flashlight trained on the road immediately in front. They were coming to the end of the part that was wide enough for vehicles, as would have been obvious had Louise swept her light from side to side.

  Some animal crashed in the brush to their right. Stumpy let out a series of startled barks while Fárez tried to hush him. The dog let out a final, satisfied bark and stopped.

  “Keep him quiet, Corporal,” Louise called back. “You promised.”

  “Sorry, Miss Louise. I’m sorry, he’ll be a good boy.” Then, to the dog, “Why, I’ve had enough of you. You be good, now.”

  “Dumb dog,” Frankie said. She let out another exaggerated sigh. “Oh, why not? We’ve got a Jap with us—what’s one more mangy animal?”

  This brought grumbles from the other men on crutches, not just Fárez, and Frankie stopped, seeming to understand that she’d overstepped herself in criticizing their mascot. Or maybe they’d begun to warm to Sammy. The Japanese soldier wasn’t constantly whining, for one.

  They trudged along in merciful silence after that, and the older nurse didn’t even complain about the mosquitoes. They’d shared a bottle of 6-2-2 No-Bite to rub on their skin, but that didn’t seem to do much to keep the bugs away, only made the lot of them smell like repellent.

  Finally the jig was up. They came upon the litter bearers resting, and this brought the customary greeting of unintelligible Tagalog and flashlights illuminating the newcomers. Flashlights swept across the road, which was nothing but a thin trail at this point, with a towering, vegetation-choked hillside both above and below. The “road” was a narrow ribbon hugging the hill, wide enough for foot traffic, but nothing else.

/>   “Wait a minute,” Frankie said, and Louise braced herself. “We’re lost!”

  “We’re not lost. These villagers know where they’re going.”

  “No, I mean it, we must have taken a wrong turn. Look, the road is gone. It’s completely missing. We’re on a pig trail or something. You can’t get a truck across this.”

  The injured soldiers came hobbling up to where Frankie had planted herself. Louise tugged her arm, but the other woman wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s not a pig trail,” one of the soldiers said. “It’s cut right into the hillside, you can see plainly enough.”

  “You didn’t know?” another man asked.

  “Guess she didn’t know,” Fárez said. “The rest of us figured it out about an hour ago. You saw it, didn’t you, Miss Louise?”

  “I’ll bet even the Jap figured it out by now,” the first man said. “This ain’t no road. There never was no road here.”

  “What are they talking about?” Frankie demanded. “How are the trucks going to pick us up? How are they going to carry us to Bataan?”

  Now Sammy joined them, hobbling up last of all. “The trucks aren’t going to Bataan,” he said. “That was never the plan, was it, Miss Louise?”

  The Japanese soldier’s voice was flat, his emotions hard to read. A defensive strategy, Louise thought, to hide what he was thinking from these people who would just as soon see him dead. But what did he think of the plan?

  Frankie wheeled on Louise. “You knew?”

  “I did.”

  “And you never told me? What’s going on here? We can’t walk all the way to Bataan with these injured men. It’s impossible. And you’re telling me it was our plan all along to abandon the trucks? I can’t believe that, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Oh, shut up, you dumb broad,” a voice called. This was one of the men from up front, who was being hoisted up by the litter bearers, ready to set off again.

  “Don’t you tell me to shut up! You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”

  “If you don’t shut your piehole, you’re going to make me wish I were,” he said, to laughter from the others.