by Daniel Wyatt
“Why are you doing this?”
The old man made a quick bow. “You eat now and we talk later.” He glanced at the girls and the three left, the younger girl closing the sliding door behind her.
On the tray was a cup of some green tea and small bowls of rice, cooked fish, bean soup, and vegetables. The only utensils were chopsticks. Luckily for Tiger, he knew how to use them. He found everything tasty and devoured it all. Moments later, the younger girl entered the room, bowed, and took the tray out.
Then the old man appeared. He sat on one of the cushions. “I am Saburo Chuichi. I live here with my daughters. And what is your name?”
“Lieutenant Jack Runsted, United States Navy. My friends call me Tiger.”
“You Americans enjoy nicknames.”
“Why didn’t you turn me in?”
“It would serve no purpose. The war will be over soon. My son is in the government. He told me that atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Out government will surrender, within days, once the militants in the imperial cabinet realize that the fight is over.
“The Americans will be our conquerors soon. Therefore, to mistreat or turn in any American flier at this time would be pointless. Earlier in the war, I would have sent for the authorities. We only obey orders. Our superiors are supposed to know what’s best. But that will change with the coming of the Americans. My son told me that our coal production is down one-eighth of what it is prior to the war. That is not good with winter approaching. Our cities have been destroyed. Millions of homes. Over one million men have been killed in this fight and nearly the same amount of civilians have perished in bombings. We have been fighting a war on a lie. We are not a superior race who had to rule the world. Our past is now in ruins.” The old man sighed, then added, “You have permission to stay here in hiding until the end is official.”
“Thank you.”
Tiger didn’t know what to make of it. But the old man had hit the nail on the head when he mentioned that the Americans would soon be the conquerors. History told Tiger that General MacArthur, the Supreme Commander of Allied Powers, would rule Japan as an absolute military ruler through to 1950. MacArthur would be the protector of the Japanese people, while they got back on their feet, and it would be his influence that quickly brought democracy to Japan.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Tiger asked.
Saburo smiled. “As you say in America, you have no choice.”
“True. But if they catch me, you and your daughters will be punished.”
“I doubt very much the men will return, at least not for a day or so. If they do return, it might be to tell me the war is over, perhaps.”
“Perhaps. You have an excellent command of the English language. How is that?”
“I learned it on my own. I also know German, French, and a little Russian.”
“You seem to know a lot about Americans.”
“I used to teach physics at Tokyo University, until I retired in 1938. My students came from all over the world, including the United States. I see your government has beaten our government in splitting the atom.”
“Yes, we have.”
“Your flight gear is of an interesting design, especially your helmet. That was your jet aircraft that flew over today, wasn’t it? I didn’t know the American military had jet aircraft.”
“We have now.”
“Yes, you do. Very impressive. I taught the theories of jet propulsion in my classes. It’s really quite simple, is it not? A blown-up balloon makes an excellent working model. When the balloon’s mouth is closed, the air inside pushed in all directions with the same pressure. When the mouth is opened, the air pressure is less at the mouth. However, at the opposite end of the mouth the air pushed with greater pressure. The balloon will then move in the direction of the greatest pressure, which is forward. In conclusion, it is not the exhaust but the forward push with propels the balloon. Simple. Your technicians must have capitalized on it before the rest of the world. We have our Baka bombs which are jet powered, but we don’t have a workable fighter or bomber.”
Saburo watched Tiger yawning. “I’m sorry to bore you. You must know how a jet works, otherwise you wouldn’t be flying one. I see you are tired. My daughter has started a hot bath for you in the next room. A hot bath and a good sleep will cure your ills.”
Tiger smiled. “It will indeed, sir. Thank you.”
“Come.”
Moments later, Tiger eased his sore and tired body into the steaming, almost scalding, hot water of the sunken tub. The Japanese version of a hot tub. To one side were towels, neatly stacked. The water was such a relief that he laid his head back and went to sleep.
* * * *
KYOTO
David drove straight to Toshika’s apartment complex and took the elevator to the third floor. He knocked four times in rapid succession at her door.
The door opened slowly, the chain lock still on. Her face flushed, Toshika peeked through the small opening.
“Toshika, please let me in. It’s important.”
“After what you made me do!”
“What?”
Toshika was in tears. “Colonel Mason had a heart attack today.”
“He did?”
“That little session of yours about the codename was probably too much for him. He may not make it through the night. And for what? Something that happened nearly fifty years ago. I told you on the phone I wanted to be alone.”
“All the more reason to see you. I have something to tell you that will explain everything. Please.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with her hand. She removed the chain and David entered.
“Here, read this. I just got it two hours ago. Sit down. Relax.” He handed her a ripped-open envelope with a PRIORITY stamp on it, then headed to her liquor cabinet. Inside the envelope was a typed piece of paper, a US Navy dispatch on a proper letterhead from the commanding officer of the carrier USS Midway. She sat on the couch and read the first sentence.
FOLLOWING THE READING OF THIS DISPATCH, PLEASE DESTROY AND DO NOT REVEAL THE CONTENTS TO ANYONE.
“David, it’s addressed to you and it says that no one else is–”
“Never mind that.” David poured vodka and lime juice into a glass. “You were involved and you have to know. The wrath of the US Navy if I do tell you is nothing compared to your wrath if I don’t tell you. Read on.” Then he poured a second drink.
YOU WERE GIVEN THE JOB OF FINDING THE CODENAME FOR A REASON THAT FOR SECURITY REASONS I CAN’T DIVULGE. HOW YOU EVER STUMBLED ONTO MASON WAS A STROKE OF LUCK AT A TIME WHEN WE NEEDED IT. YOU DID A GREAT SERVICE TO YOUR COUNTRY AND THE WORLD. THE MISSION IN QUESTION DID NOT EXIST. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? MANY THANKS. COMMODORE PRENTICE. USS MIDWAY.
Toshika’s tears stopped in an instant once she read the dispatch. “David, what’s going on?”
“Let’s not ask.”
“I’m so sorry for how I acted, David.”
“Forget it.” He walked over to her, a drink in both hands, giving her one. “Now, to something else. I want to ask you a simple question.” He sat on the couch with her, the paper falling to the floor. “A drink to us.”
“What’s this all about?”
They sipped their drinks. David set his glass on the nearby table.
“Will you marry me?”
Toshika sat speechless. “I don’t... know what to–”
“Just say, yes. That’s all I want to hear.”
“You’re not proposing just to shut me up about the Mary Jane mission, are you?”
He laughed. “It did cross my mind. No, of course not.”
“It that case, I say... yes.”
Then... the doorbell rang just as they were about to kiss.
“I’ll flush the dispatch down the toilet while you answer it,” Toshika said.
“Sure.”
David got up and stared into the peephole. At first he thought he was seeing things. The
toilet flushed and David heard Toshika approaching.
“Well,” she said, “who is it?”
“I don’t believe it.”
The doorbell rang again.
“It’s my mother. Here! Now!”
“Let her in.”
David swung the door open. “Mom, what are you doing here?” He looked down the hall. “Where’s dad?”
“Still on Guam. I just got off the plane. Your butler told me where you were. Don’t just stand there. Let me in.”
David and Edna hugged at the door, while Toshika closed it.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Toshika Ushida, my... my fiancée. I just proposed a minute ago, actually.”
“Aren’t you the sly one? That’s great!” Edna embraced Toshika.
All three settled on the couch.
“I know dad won’t approve,” David chuckled.
“Ah, to hell with him.”
“But you’re the one who has to live with the guy.”
“Leave it to me.”
“So, why is dad still on Guam?”
“He and Phil Cameron are sticking it out with Les and the family until the typhoon passes.”
“Geez, that’s kind of dangerous, isn’t it?”
“I know. But they’re taking the precautions. Denise, Cameron’s wife, flew back to California today. I came here. Your dad will join us later. Maybe Les, Gail, and the kids, too.”
David sighed. “I sure hope so.”
“They better be careful,” Toshika added.
The other two could only nod.
Chapter seventeen
GUAM
As Matilda neared Guam, the typhoon watch turned to a typhoon warning. The weather forecasters believed that in a matter of hours Matilda, with all its fury, would smash into the island. High winds, high water, and rough seas were predicted.
Although several Guam residents who thought the eye of the storm would miss them were caught off guard, the Shilling household were swinging into action. Because the house was on higher ground and not along the coast, Cameron and the Shillings didn’t have to worry about the rising water of the storm wave. Their main concerns would be the wind and the rain.
Cameron and Robert boarded up the windows firmly and brought everything from the yard into the house. Les turned off the water heater and the gas at the main inlet. He also unplugged everything electrical except for the freezer, the fridge, the radio, and the television.
Over the radio, Cameron heard that the storm would probably approach the island from the southeast. Therefore, he opened two windows on the east side to act as a release valve inside the house. Immediately, a strong, howling, damp wind greeted him. Looking up, he saw that the sky was a fierce gray.
* * * *
JAPAN
Tiger woke up, the second time in an hour that he had fallen asleep. He was still in the sunken tub and the water was still quite warm. He slid up, rubbed his eyes, and spread his arms on the sides of the tub, his eyes on the door.
“Hello, lieutenant.” Saburo bowed and entered the room. “I was beginning to think you had drowned. Did you sleep well?”
“For not being a bed, I slept very well, thank you. It felt so good, I couldn’t stay awake.”
“I heard some talk in the village. Were you the one who destroyed the planes at the base?”
“Yes, I was.”
“It seems several guards are searching the countryside. They are looking for the man in the magic machine, as they call it. You hurt the pride of the base.”
“How did I do that?”
“By destroying the new elite Zero squadron. They are long-range fighters with drop tanks. The pilots are in training to attack Superfortresses before they approach our mainland.”
Tiger perked up. “Did you say, long-range. How long of range?”
“They can fly to Iwo Jima and back, I’m told.”
“Is that so?” Tiger calculated in his mind... 1,500 miles one way. Could he still catch the Mary Jane? It was worth a try. “How far is it to the base?”
“Oh, ten miles.”
“What’s the quickest way of getting there?”
Saburo held a finger up. “Ah, you’re planning an escape, are you?”
“You bet I am.”
“I know a farmer down the road. You could use his truck. But I would have to get it first. How do you plan to get past the search parties?”
“I’ll find some way.”
“Get dressed, wait in your room, and I’ll be back shortly.”
The older girl appeared with some work clothes, a shirt, a pair of dark slacks, and a pair of well-worn shoes. Once Saburo and his daughter left, Tiger threw on the clothes and returned to his room, where he waited for twenty minutes. Then, to his shock, he heard shouting. Men’s voices. Tiger had no place to go, no place to hide.
The screen shot open with a hard bang. Two machine-gun-toting guards stood at the door, their barrels held on Tiger. One of the men threw Tiger’s flight suit, boots, and helmet at him. Tiger got the picture. Put them on! Behind the guards he heard more shouting from other men, interspaced with screams from the girls. Saburo and his daughters were brought into the hall opposite the opening to the room. Tiger stripped down to his underwear and slid into the flight gear and boots. With two guns at his back, he walked through the entrance, his head held high.
His eyes met Saburo’s. Tiger bowed and continued on, down the hall and out into the bright sunshine. He saw two brown army trucks ahead. Two guard dogs were tied to the driver’s door handle. To either side of the narrow, gravel roadway were thick trees.
Then... a noisy aircraft — a Zero — flew low over head.
The guards looked up. Tiger darted off to the right, into the thick trees and ran, finally stopping a few minutes later to catch his breath. No one behind him. But he could hear the dogs barking. And they didn’t sound that far off. He kept running. The forest was thick, but it couldn’t keep him hidden for very long. For one of the few times in his life, he was truly scared. He knew what the Japanese authorities did to shot-down American airmen during World War Two. They had no mercy.
Coming to a short open field, he saw a ragged path a hundred feet off, leading from the field on the other side back into the forest. He took off on a dead run and made it to the path, just as two guards appeared at the edge of the forest. He turned and saw a flash from one of the guns.
Tiger hit the dirt, a stinging pain in his left leg. Bleeding from his ankle, he crawled, then ran as best he could from their sight into the forest. After fifty feet, he gave up. He dropped on the spot, beside a tree trunk, where he turned and waited. The guards ran up, shoving the rifle butts into his chest.
“All right, assholes, knock it off!”
The dogs barked fiercely, showing sharp teeth. The guards looked down at Tiger. One of them shouted and motioned to Tiger to get up. The guards blindfolded him and ordered him to walk the entire distance to Saburo’s house, punching him and prodding him along the way with the rifle butts.
They stopped at the truck, where Tiger was pushed into the back and was kept under guard for a slow, thirty-minute trip. Then his blindfold was ripped off and he was grabbed from the back of the truck. Facing him was a small, rod-bearing Japanese officer in glasses. Tiger looked around and saw the base he had shot up. He smiled when he saw the blackened remains of the fighters off to one side of the hangar.
The officer shouted in Japanese and some guards rushed forward to tie Tiger’s hands behind him. He was forced to walk again. On the way, he saw three Zeros off to the left, drop tanks attached to the bottom fuselage. The guards flung him into a room inside a small building. A large, tough-looking thug stared at him, as one guard dropped him on a chair. The officer stepped forward and stood over Tiger.
“All right, Joe, name, rank, and serial number,” the officer demanded in English.
“My name is not Joe,” Tiger replied. “And I need a doctor.”
“Every American is Joe to me.” T
he officer struck Tiger across the face with the rod. “Name, rank, serial number!”
Tiger felt a line of blood trickling down his cheek. “My name is Joe, United States–”
“Your real name!”
“I thought you decided my name is Joe.”
“Name, rank, serial number!”
“Lieutenant Jack Runsted, United States Navy. Number 565675.”
The officer pointed his stick toward the door. “That was some exhibition you put on out there today.”
“Fucking right it was.”
The officer caught the smirk on Tiger’s face and struck him again with the rod, this time on the shoulder. “What kind of aircraft were you flying?”
Tiger flinched and said, “I’m only required to give my name, rank, and serial number.”
“You’re one of those smart-ass Joes.”
“My name is Jack.”
One of the guards brought in Tiger’s helmet and oxygen mask and placed it on a long table. The officer looked at the pieces, and was especially interested in the darkened visor and padded lining. “What does Tiger stand for?” he asked, reading the name on the front.
“My nickname.”
The officer then eyed Tiger’s flight suit, poking the ankle and shoulder pockets. “Where did you come from? What base?”
Oh, what the hell,Tiger thought. Keeping military secrets now wouldn’t mean anything.
“A carrier.”
“Which one?”
“USS Midway.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s our... newest.”
“What kind of jet-propulsion aircraft were you flying?”
Tiger smiled. “The best. F-18 Hornet.”
“What engines were you using?”
“Twin turbofans. Sixteen thousand pounds of thrust. It can go twice the speed of sound.”
“Twice the speed of sound! That’s impossible! I want the truth!”
“It is the truth. Why would I lie? You saw what it could do.” Thanks to some 1990 Japanese computer technology, Tiger wanted to say. “You were lucky. If you hadn’t got a piece of me, I would have wiped out your whole base.”
