Down and Dirty

by Len Levinson

  “Out of ammo!” said Homer Gladley.

  ‘ Bannon fired the last burst from his light machine gun. “Out of ammo!”

  Butsko knew that the end had come. “Fix bayonets!”

  The GIs fastened their bayonets on their rifles. Bannon didn't have a rifle anymore, so he drew his bayonet and held it in his fist, waiting for the Japs to rush them. Morris Shilansky was the only one firing; then his empty clip clanged into the air.

  The coconut grove became quiet. In the smoke and gloom they saw Japs moving among the trees, but there was nothing the GIs could do about it. None of them said anything. Adrenaline was pumping through their veins and they were ready to die.

  “Sullender!” cried a Japanese voice from Bannon's front.

  That took the GIs by surprise. They'd expected to be slaughtered and looked at each other, everyone wondering what the other was thinking.

  “What do you say?” Butsko asked.

  “What do you say?” Bannon replied.

  “It's up to you guys. I'll do it any way you want.”

  “I think we should surrender,” Delane said, blood leaking from the little holes in his face. “At least that way we'd have a chance.”

  ‘To do what?” Frankie asked. “Get tortured by the fucking Nips?”

  Butsko had been on the Bataan Death March and a prisoner in a Jap POW camp on northern Luzon for several months. “You might be better dead than a Jap prisoner.”

  “We'll probably be dead either way,” Bannon said, “but if we surrender, we might have more of a chance.”

  “Where there's life there's hope,” the Reverend Billie Jones said.

  “Oh, fuck you!” Frankie La Barbara said.

  The voice of the Jap came to them through the grove. “Sullender or die! We give you three minutes to think—no more! You cannot get away! You sullounded Shilansky spat into the dust. “I don't know what to do. I'll do whatever you guys decide.”

  “Me too,” said Homer Gladley.

  “I agree with Bannon,” said Shaw, whose boot was filled with blood. He gritted his teeth and made fists to keep the pain under control. “If we're alive, at least we've got a chance.”

  “C'mon,” said Frankie La Barbara sarcastically, “the moment we stand up and throw away our guns, they'll mow us down.”

  “If we don't, they'll mow us down anyway.”

  Butsko would rather die fighting, but he believed Bannon had a point. He'd escaped from that Japanese prison camp in northern Luzon, and maybe they could escape from where they were going, but he wasn't sure that he could handle being a prisoner of the Japs again.

  “It seems to me,” he said, “that most of you guys want to give up and take your chances, right?”

  The men grunted in assent, except for Frankie La Barbara.

  “I don't want those stinking Japs to lay their hands on me!” Frankie said.

  “There's nothing you can do to stop them now,” Bannon told him. “It's all over.”

  “It ain't never over.”

  “Besides,” Bannon continued, “help might be on the way right now. I sent Nutsy back to look for the regiment.”

  “Hey,” said Frankie, “he might be on his way here with the whole regiment right now.”

  “Maybe,” Bannon said.

  “What's it gonna be?” Butsko asked. “Are we gonna surrender? Everybody who wants to surrender say yo.”

  Everybody, including Frankie La Barbara, said “yo.”

  “Okay,” Butsko said, “if that's the way you want it, that's they way we'll play it. You might as well have your last smokes now, because the Japs'll probably take your cigarettes away, and if any of you have anything you want to hide, this is the time to do it, but don't get caught. Those Japs out there aren't nice people.”

  Bannon's leg ached from the bullet hole. He wondered what he had to hide and realized he didn't have anything. He took out a cigarette and lit it up, inhaling deeply, wondering when he'd ever be able to smoke another one.

  Corporal Gomez was looking for someplace to hide his switchblade knife, which he'd brought with him all the way from the back alleys of Los Angeles. He took off his boot, dropped the switch on the bottom, and put his foot back in.

  Frankie wanted to keep some cigarettes with him. “Hey, Blum, gimme some fucking tape.”

  Blum tossed him a roll and Frankie cut off a length, taping three cigarettes to the inside of his thigh, next to his testicles.

  “Three minutes up!” shouted the Jap. “Sullender or die!”

  “We surrender!” Butsko yelled back.

  “Stand up and hold hands high! Leave weapons on ground!”

  “You heard him,” Butsko said.

  The men in the recon platoon who could stand got up and held their hands in the air. The others lay on the ground and waited.

  Japs moved toward them through the grove, holding their rifles ready, slipping from tree to tree. The Japanese officer shouted orders and the Japanese soldiers closed in. Bannon felt an unpleasant sensation of fear throughout his body as the Japanese soldiers moved closer. He was aware of all the atrocity stories, how the Japs tortured and killed the men on the Bataan Death March, chopped off the heads and legs of British soldiers they'd captured in Singapore, massacred tens of thousands of Chinese in Nanking, raping women, even killing babies. Bannon wondered if surrendering was such a good idea. Maybe it would have been better to die clean than be tortured to death. But it was too late for that now.

  The Japs crept closer, pointing their rifles at the GIs, making sure they were unarmed. The officer appeared behind them, his samurai sword in his hand. He was dressed identically to the soldiers but wore brown knee-high boots instead of leggings and different insignia on his collar. He was nearly six feet tall, and Bannon was always surprised when he saw a tall Jap, because he'd been taught that they were tiny men. The Japanese soldiers fit the stereotype better; they were smaller, raggedy, filthy, and ferocious-looking.

  “Move over there!” the Jap officer said to the GIs.

  The GIs stepped away from their weapons and lined up several feet away. Shaw hopped on one leg with his arm around Homer Gladley's neck.

  “Take off clothes and put in front of you!” the Japanese officer said. “Boots too!”

  The GIs unhitched their packs and lay them on the ground. They took off their boots, cartridge belts, and clothes, laying everything in piles in front of them.

  “Hurry!” said the Japanese officer.

  The GIs finished undressing and stood up again as the insects descended on their naked bodies and sucked out blood. The Japanese officer shouted something and a few Japanese soldiers gave their weapons to their comrades and then moved forward to search the GIs. They ran their fingers through the GI's hair, prodded in their armpits and crotches, and made them bend over so they could see if anything was hidden up their assholes.

  The Japanese soldier in front of Bannon sneered at him as he poked with his fingers. Working down Bannon's body, the Jap ripped the bandage off Bannon's leg with a sudden wrenching movement, and Bannon let out a howl of pain. The Jap probed the wound with his dirty fingers, examined the bandage, and then let it drop to the ground. He examined the bottoms of Bannon's feet, then moved to examine the next man, Cor-poral Gomez.

  Bannon picked up the bandage and pressed it against his wound, which was aching so severely he could feel the pain in his bones. He wished now that he'd asked Blum to shoot him up with a morphine Syrette to stop the pain.

  The Jap examining Frankie La Barbara found the bandage on his thigh and pulled it away, revealing three cigarettes but no wound. The Jap grinned and drew back his fist, and Frankie got ready. The Jap shot his fist forward and Frankie blocked the punch, hammering the Jap in the stomach. Keeling over in pain, the Jap dropped to his stomach as three Japs jumped on top of Frankie La Barbara, pummeling him to the ground.

  Another Jap turned Gomez's boot upside down and the switchblade fell out. The Jap picked up the switchblade, looked at it quizzical
ly, and tried to pull out the blade with his fingertips, but of course it wouldn't come out that way. He pressed the button, but the safety catch was on and the blade still wouldn't open. The Japanese officer shouted something and the soldier tossed the switchblade, which the officer dropped into his pocket. Then the soldier turned around and punched Gomez in the mouth. Gomez staggered back two steps but he didn't go down.

  The Jap officer shouted, “Do not hide weapons! Anybody who hides weapons will be shot!”

  The Japs continued their search of the GIs. Frankie got to his feet, his face bloody. He leaned against a tree because his head still wasn't clear. A Jap stopped in front of Butsko and looked into his eyes. Butsko's eyes didn't waver and he kept his backbone straight, because he'd already taken the worst that the Japs could dish out and he wasn't afraid of them.

  The Jap searched him, poking and prodding, Butsko wanted to punch him in the mouth, but he stayed calm, holding his hands at his sides, his shoulder throbbing with pain. The Japs stepped back and joined the others searching through the GIs’ packs, hooting with delight whenever they found food.

  “Put your clothes on!” the Japanese officer said. “Do not try any escape, because we shoot you down like dogs!”

  The GIs got dressed while the Japs confiscated their food. The Jap officer sat against the trunk of a tree and the Jap soldiers dumped the food at his feet. He looked at the cans and tried to read the markings. Then he said something in Japanese. His men divided up the cans and opened them while other Japs stood guard over the recon platoon.

  Bannon watched blood ooze down his leg and drip to the ground. When the bandage had been pulled away, it also removed the scab that was forming over Bannon's wounds. Butsko noticed him.

  “You okay?” Butsko asked.

  “No talking!” shouted the Jap officer.

  Blum turned around. “Can I treat that man's wound.”

  The Japanese officer said something to one of his men, who raised his rifle and hammered Blum in the head with his rifle butt. A wide gash opened on Blum's head and he fell unconscious to the ground.

  Butsko gave them all a look that said I told you so. Frankie La Barbara sat up and touched his finger to his nose. It had been broken badly before, but now it was mashed all over his face.

  The Japs ate hungrily and Bannon sized them up. They were skinny, their uniforms were raggedy, and many had holes in their shoes. None had shaven for a while. Behind them, in the coconut grove, were many more Japs. Everywhere he looked he saw Japs. He figured there must be at least two companies of them in the area. They were gathering their dead and wounded.

  When the Japs finished eating, their officer gave them an order and they filled a sack with the extra food. Then the officer stood and stretched. He picked his teeth with a long pointy fingernail and looked at the GIs.

  “Do not have such unhappy faces,” he said. “Be glad we let you sullender. We would have killed you for what you have done, but we have a need for you, and that is why we let you sullender. On your feet!”

  The GIs stood, and those who had difficulty were helped by their buddies.

  “Walk that way!” said the officer, pointing to the mansion.

  The men from the recon platoon moved south through the coconut grove, their shoulders hunched in defeat, as Japanese soldiers hurled taunts at them. One Jap threw a coconut shell, which hit Morris Shilansky in the head. Another Jap spat in Bannon's face. Japanese soldiers believed in fighting to the death and had contempt for anyone who would surrender. A Jap kicked Butsko in the ass, and Butsko wanted to turn around and tear his head off, but he just kept walking, his heart full of apprehension, wondering what would become of them.

  FOUR . . .

  In the late afternoon Colonel Imoto sat cross-legged in the tent that had been assigned him, writing in his diary. He was detailing his impressions of the Japanese Seventeenth Army on Guadalcanal, and it was even worse than he'd imagined. He'd been shown the bodies of Japanese soldiers who'd starved to death, and his escorts had taken him to a cave where a dead Japanese soldier lay with layers of meat sliced off his rump, evidence of the cannibalism he'd heard about. Imoto had been involved in the invasions of Hong Kong and Singapore and had seen the Imperial Army riding the crest of astounding victories, but never could he imagine that so soon would come a catastrophe of the proportions of Guadalcanal.

  “Colonel Imoto, sir?” said a voice outside his tent.

  “Yes.”

  “General Hyakutake would like to speak with you.”

  “I'll be right there.”

  Colonel Imoto thought he should put on a fresh shirt, but it wouldn't stay fresh long in the sweltering humidity. He buckled his samurai sword to his waist, put on his cap, and left his tent. Sargeant Kaburagi was waiting outside for him, and together they walked across the clearing. The rain had stopped, and small patches of blue sky could be seen in the cloud layer above. Occasionally the sun would come out for a few minutes and then be swallowed up by the gloom again. Perhaps tomorrow the sun would shine and he could dry his clothes out.

  They came to the command tent and Sargeant Kaburagi held open the flap. Colonel Imoto went inside, passed a few desks with officers behind them, and went back to the office of General Hyakutake, who sat behind his desk, his big ears making him look somewhat comical, but the expression on his face was deadly serious. General Miyazaki and Colonel Konuma sat on chairs in front of General Hyakutake's desk. Colonel Imoto marched to the front of the desk and saluted General Hyakutake.

  “You asked to see me, sir?”

  “Yes, Colonel Imoto. Have a seat, please.”

  Colonel Imoto sat on a chair and folded his hands in his lap.

  “Colonel Imoto,” General Hyakutake said solemnly, “I have decided to obey the order to evacuate Guadalcanal. But I must point out to you, and it won't be easy, and I can't say whether the evacuation will succeed as planned. At least I will do my best.”

  Colonel Imoto bowed slightly. “I'm sure General Imamura will be pleased to know that you intend to comply.”

  “I have been a soldier all my life and I cannot disobey an order that originated with the Emperor.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “As I said, the evacuation will be most difficult. We must retreat slowly and fight every inch of the way, to make the Americans think nothing has changed. If we break and run, they'll slaughter us.”

  Colonel Imoto tucked his chin into his chest. “I doubt whether good Japanese soldiers will break and run, sir.”

  “Some have already,” General Hyakutake said, “and a sur-prising number of our men have surrendered.”

  “No!”

  “It's true. Lack of food distorted their perceptions and made them behave in a manner that would be unthinkable if they'd had normal nourishment. Of course, most of my men have fought on regardless of shortages and deprivation. I'd say that only a few hundred surrendered so ignominiously, but it is something to think about, isn't it?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “We have some American prisoners also, of course. They surrender much more readily than we do, and lately we've been trying to capture as many as we can, because perhaps we can trade their men for ours at some point.”

  “An excellent idea, sir.”

  “And if not, it might be good for morale at home to march some of these captured Americans through the streets of our cities and towns, so our people can know that the Americans are not invincible.”

  “From what you've said, sir, I think it will be difficult enough evacuating your own men, never mind American prisoners.”

  “We'll see, but at any rate we'll have them if we need them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I understand a regiment debarked with you last night?”

  “That is correct, sir. It was the Sixty-sixth Infantry, commanded by Colonel Shibata, the son of General Shibata.”

  “Ah, yes, General Shibata. One of our finest generals. Too old for active duty now, of course.”


  “And Colonel Shibata's younger brother was a lieutenant who fought here and died.”

  “Really?” asked General Hyakutake. “I didn't know that.”

  General Miyazaki wrinkled his brow. “I don't seem to recall the name.”

  “Well,” said Colonel Imoto, “he was only a lieutenant. I imagine he served in the field and evidently was killed in action. At any rate the colonel will probably want to avenge his young brother's death.”

  “No doubt,” agreed General Hyakutake. “I imagine he'll be a real tiger, and that's just what we need here. An aggressive commander and fresh troops will help us hold back the Americans so that we can leave this accursed island. Have Colonel Shibata report to me first thing in the morning, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  73

  “Good. And now what will you do, since you have delivered your message to me, Colonel Imoto? Will you return to Ra-baul?”

  “My orders are to stay with you here, sir, and accompany you back to Rabaul when you leave.”

  “Very good. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. I have a staff meeting here every morning at ten. I'll expect you to attend. That is all. You may leave.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Colonel Imoto stood, saluted, and marched out of the tent. In the clearing he put on his cap and looked up at the sky. The sun was covered by clouds again, but perhaps the next day would be sunny. He walked toward his tent, his spirits improved. He was glad that General Hyakutake would comply with the order to evacuate Guadalcanal, because it would have been very messy if he'd refused. Colonel Imoto would not have known what to do. He might even have had to commit hara-kiri.

  Nutsy Gafooley was wandering through the jungles of Guad-alcanal, looking for other GIs like himself, but couldn't find any. He didn't have a compass and wished now that he'd asked Bannon for his, but in the excitement of their parting he hadn't thought of asking.

  When he left the plantation he'd heard the sounds of fierce