But there was a great deal of shouting from above him.
He resumed his climb, more carefully, but abandoned caution when he heard a scream. Steffi! He had left his revolver with her, but that had been a rifle shot. He tore up the hillside and burst through the bushes, careless of concealment, heard more shouts, and reached the path to find himself surrounded by Japanese soldiers. Stefanie was only a few feet away. She had apparently been gathering her daily fruit supply when she had been seen. Now she was in the middle of a group of the soldiers. They had snatched away her sarong, but she was still on her feet, panting, looking from right to left, knowing she was about to be raped, by several men … and seeing Clive.
The Japanese presented their rifles, and he raised his arms. He had been so confident that he did not even have his cyanide tablets with him. Not that he could possibly take one and leave Stefanie behind. They would have to suffer this one out together. But when he remembered what the kempei-tai had done to her …
She remembered it too, he could tell. She was fighting the urgent desire to scream and run, on to a waiting bayonet.
The Japanese were shouting at him, and when he did not immediately respond, one of them hit him with a rifle butt on the shoulder. He staggered, but did not fall, and found himself inside the same ring as Stefanie.
‘Clive,’ she gasped. ‘We must die. Please, we must die.’
He drew a long breath. It went against all human instincts, to charge the ring of steel, unarmed. And anyway, the Japanese had no reason to kill them. They could easily wound them and still torture them to their hearts content.
He squeezed her hand. ‘We have to pick our moment,’ he muttered.
The Japanese were coming closer, jabbing at them both with their bayonets. It occurred to Clive that they looked less lustful or vicious than desperate. Certainly he could tell they were half starved. Maybe they just mean to kill us, he thought. What a crying shame, just when the Americans are in sight, almost. He tightened his grip on Stefanie’s hand, could feel her shivering against him … and the soldiers checked as there came words of command.
An officer appeared from the direction of the plantation. He carried a sword and a revolver, stared at Clive and Stefanie in consternation. Then he spoke to them.
‘We do not speak Japanese,’ Clive said, and was pinked by a bayonet from behind. He turned with a roar, and the soldier jumped backwards. His companions surged forward, and Stefanie screamed, but the officer gave another order. Then he pointed his sword, towards the plantation.
His meaning was unmistakeable. ‘I think we’d better humour him,’ Clive said. He picked up her sarong, wrapped her in it, and took her hand again to lead her along the path, the soldiers behind them and to either side, bayonets levelled, but beyond the reach of any sudden movement. The officer led the way, but he looked back every few seconds.
‘I am so sorry, Clive,’ Stefanie said. ‘It was my fault. I heard nothing, so I thought I would gather fruit as usual. Then I saw them, through the trees, and ran away. I don’t know why. If I had stayed still they would not have found me.’
‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘Law of averages, that we would be found, one day.’
‘Clive … are they going to … ’ she shuddered.
‘Whatever they do, Steffi, I love you. And I’ll love you after, as well.’
She glanced at him, then looked away again. The plantation was in sight, and there were more Japanese soldiers, busily digging foxholes and erecting various breastworks, while others were emplacing three small artillery pieces. But they all stopped work to look at the nearly naked white people. Excited chatter rose into the air, and men crowded forward, to be recalled by brisk words of command. And a moment later they faced the colonel commanding the detachment.
‘Colonel Tarawa!’ Stefanie gasped, for the first time revealing embarrassment at her situation. She pulled her hand free from Clive’s to attempt to smooth her tangled hair.
The Japanese colonel was no less astounded. ‘Mrs van Gelderen!’ he cried in Dutch. ‘We had supposed you dead.’
Stefanie licked her lips. ‘Not yet, Colonel.’
Tarawa glanced at Clive. ‘Who is this man?’
Clive stood to attention. ‘Lieutenant Clive McGann, Royal Navy, sir.’
Tarawa stared at him. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Two years, sir.’
‘Two … you are the observer we sought for so long?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Clive said. ‘I am sorry I am not in uniform, sir, but mine wore out some time ago.’
Tarawa gazed at him for some seconds, then looked at Stefanie again. The captain was by now showing signs of agitation, and asked a question in Japanese.
Tarawa replied, smiling as he spoke. The captain became even more agitated, and made a cutting gesture with his sword. When Tarawa demurred, the captain made an even more aggressive gesture.
‘Captain Abe wishes to cut off your head,’ Tarawa said. ‘He would be within his rights. You are a self-confessed spy.’
‘I have not been tried and found guilty,’ Clive said.
‘I think we could arrange that, quite quickly, Lieutenant,’ Tarawa told him.
‘Please, Colonel,’ Stefanie said. ‘For God’s sake. You know what those men from the kempei-tai did to me.’
‘I do know, Mrs van Gelderen,’ Tarawa said. ‘I am very sorry for it.’
‘This man, Lieutenant McGann, nursed me back to health. And I sustained him in his observation post. If you cut off his head, you must cut off mine, too.’
Captain Abe launched into another diatribe.
‘The captain thinks that would be most appropriate,’ Tarawa said. ‘However … it seems rather pointless now. It may be possible for me to justify keeping you alive. You must have a food supply, if you have existed in the jungle for over a year.’
‘We have some food,’ Stefanie said.
‘My men have very little. If you will supply us with food you will be of use to us.’
Stefanie looked left and right. ‘How many men?’
‘I have six hundred.’
‘Six hundred? My God, we cannot feed so many.’
‘You will try, Mrs van Gelderen. Show my men where to find this food. It is the only reason for you to remain alive. And cover yourself up. You are a danger to yourself like that.’
*
They were taken back into the forest, and up the mountain to their ledge; Stefanie was allowed to add her blouse — unworn for over a year — to her sarong. Tarawa had lectured his men severely before sending them off, so Clive felt reasonably sure Stefanie wouldn’t be violated in any way, for all the hungry looks being cast at her, but in fact, as he had observed from the beginning, the soldiers, mostly very young men hardly older than boys, were really too hungry for food to think about sex. Yet their position was grim; they knew they could not possibly hope to provide food for six hundred men, and their survival depended entirely upon the goodwill — and the survival — of Colonel Tarawa.
They worked all afternoon. Clive took the soldiers down to the beach and showed them the fish trap. They became quite angry when they discovered it was empty, and Clive had to explain in pantomime that the three fish he had already given them were a normal day’s catch. Stefanie had done better, but in a single afternoon the area she worked had been stripped bare of everything conceivably edible. At dusk, exhausted, they were marched back to the plantation. The soldiers were eating their evening meal, which consisted of a handful of rice each. The fruit and fish provided about half a mouthful extra a man. Nothing was offered to Stefanie and Clive, until Tarawa came to where they had been told to sit, and gave them some of his.
‘How long have you been like this?’ Stefanie asked.
‘For months,’ Tarawa said. ‘But it has got worse. And now there is absolutely no food to come. We are told the Americans have landed on Morokai to the west. We are cut off in every direction.’
‘Then why don’t you surrender?’ Clive
asked. ‘You have surely fought all you can.’
‘A Japanese soldier does not surrender,’ Tarawa told him. ‘We will fight to the end.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘You had best hope that end comes soon, Lieutenant McGann. When there is no food left, I think my men will wish to eat you. And the lady.’
*
They slept, as best they were able. Sleeping on the ground was nothing new; they had been doing that for a year. But down here in the plantation, surrounded by alien soldiers, was somehow claustrophobic, and unpleasantly dirty after the cleanliness of their rushing stream and clear lava rock.
‘Is there any chance we might escape?’ Stefanie whispered, huddling against him.
‘Not much,’ he said. ‘And if we tried and were caught, I don’t think even Tarawa would protect us any longer. I think we have to sit this one out, Steffi. Our people can’t be too far away.’
It was the next day that they understood the true plight of the Japanese. Now there was no food at all except for the handful of rice each man had. And of the six hundred which formed Tarawa’s command, only about a third were fit for duty. The others were suffering from a variety of fevers, of which malaria was the most prevalent, and far worse, from a variety of stomach complaints as well, varying from simple diarrhoea to real dysentery. They moaned, and groaned, and relieved themselves whenever the pain racked them; within twenty four hours the entire encampment smelt like a vast sewer.
‘They are all going to die,’ Stefanie said. ‘Even if the Americans never get here.’
Clive wondered what she truly thought, as she had to be able to remember the proud, smartly dressed, kempei-tai who had abused her. And he also could remember, not personally, but the tales told him by the troops in Malaya, who had retreated before an apparently unstoppable foe, who found his way through the jungle with total confidence, regardless of food or discomfort. If only those beaten men could see these beaten men, he thought.
They were sent in to the forest again to find food, but this time there was really very little, although Stefanie did show them where there were still coconuts on the long abandoned trees. The Japanese were reluctant to risk their limbs climbing the tall, slender trunks, so Clive showed them the way, much to Stefanie’s alarm — although he had taught himself to climb coconut trees during the past year: the fruit was an important part of their diet.
They were engaged in stripping the trees when the encampment was bombed. Low flying aircraft suddenly appeared round the volcano and for a few minutes there was pandemonium, huge explosions rocking the forest, the chatter of rifle and machine gun fire, the screams of men … then the planes were gone again. None had been hit, but the damage they had inflicted was horrifying. Stefanie and Clive, and their escort, hurried back to the plantation to find corpses everywhere. The wounded were worse however, especially as Colonel Tarawa insisted that Stefanie play the nurse, to men who were often diseased as well as bleeding, and were playing host to every insect in the jungle. Clive helped her, and they were both nauseated before they were half finished.
By then they could hear the sound of engines on the track, and Tarawa and Captain Abe had another of their fierce arguments, before every man who could hold a rifle was placed in the pits facing the direction from which the enemy might be expected to come. Clive gathered that Abe had wanted to pull out again and retreat further into the jungle, but Tarawa had determined to stand here. With his men starving there was no point in doing anything else. But if every Japanese soldier was determined to die rather than surrender, Clive realised it was going to be a very long war.
The assault commenced that afternoon. Stefanie and Clive were still attempting to bathe wounds and bind them up, using whatever cloth came to hand, however filthy, and having to work without any form of anaesthetic, when a tremendous fire was opened on the Japanese positions. Mortars grunted, and the shells exploded amidst the foxholes, scattering men and weapons, and these were accompanied by machine gun fire.
‘Down,’ Clive said, and rolled Stefanie into the nearest ditch. They found themselves sharing it with two badly wounded Japanese and inevitably a cloud of flies, but it was better than being exposed to the fire, which swept across the plantation like a storm.
The defenders replied with spirit; if they had no food they seemed to have a great deal of ammunition, and after an hour the firing died away. Now there were more wounded to be attended to, and about twenty dead to be buried. And now, too, the last of the food was gone.
Stefanie and Clive worked late into the night, and then collapsed, so utterly exhausted that they slept, despite the rumblings of their empty stomachs. They were awakened just before dawn by Tarawa, who stood above them; Captain Abe was at his shoulder, as well as four soldiers, who had done their best to straighten their uniforms and look smart. Clive’s heart did a sudden lurch; this looked very like an execution party — Abe carried two samurai swords, a long one and a short.
‘I wish you to know, Mrs van Gelderen,’ Tarawa said, ‘how much I regret the manner in which you were treated by Captain Osawa of the kempei-tai.’
Stefanie pushed hair from her eyes with bloody, and muddy, hands, and peered at him. He had said that two days ago.
‘I think you should also know,’ Tarawa went on, still speaking most formally, ‘that Osawa was acting on the orders of the commander of the kempei-tai in the South Pacific, Rear Admiral Hashimoto Kurita. He is not related to the other admiral, Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita. This you should remember, should you survive the war. It may also pay you to remember that Rear Admiral Kurita is usually accompanied by an English woman. I do not know her name, but she is a tall, yellow-haired woman. She deserves to be punished just as much as he does. Now I must bid you farewell.’
‘But … where are you going?’ Stefanie asked, bewildered.
Tarawa bowed. ‘To my ancestors, Mrs van Gelderen. I am a defeated commander. I can no longer hope to gain a victory, or indeed, to save any of my men. I must therefore die as honourably as I can. I should be obliged were you and Lieutenant McGann to be witnesses to my death.’
Stefanie gulped, and looked at Clive, who stood up. ‘As you wish, Colonel. If you will tell us what will happen to us.’
Tarawa bowed again. ‘I have given orders that you are not to be harmed.’ He turned to Captain Abe, who glared at them, but bowed in turn when Tarawa spoke to him in Japanese. ‘Now I must make haste,’ the colonel said. ‘The Americans will come again, when the sun rises.’
Clive held out his hand, and Stefanie rose also. They stood together while Tarawa took off his tunic and two of the soldiers spread it on the ground. Tarawa then divested himself of the rest of his clothing, and sat on the tunic, crosslegged. He glanced at Abe, who stood at his shoulder, and Abe handed him the short sword.
Stefanie gave a convulsive gasp as she realised what was about to happen; Clive squeezed her hand. Tarawa took the short sword, drew it from its sheath, and remained looking at it for some seconds. Abe, meanwhile, had taken his position immediately behind the colonel, and now spread his legs, and raised the long sword, also removed from its scabbard, above his head.
Tarawa asked a question in Japanese, and Abe replied.
Tarawa spoke again, gazed at the sword in his hand again, and then plunged it into his stomach. In almost the same movement he twisted the blade and drew it across from side to side, opening his entire bowel. Intestines spilled out with the blood, and, when the movement was completed, Tarawa threw out his left arm in a straight line from his shoulder.
As he made the gesture, Abe brought down the long sword with all of his strength, slicing Tarawa’s head neatly from his shoulders. The severed head flew into the air and then struck the earth. Hastily it was retrieved by one of the waiting soldiers, while Tarawa’s body slumped sideways, a mass of blood.
*
Stefanie turned into Clive’s arms with a gasp of horror. Despite all the death and disease with which they were surrounded, Tarawa’s death had been the most dramatically awful.
>
Abe was giving orders, and the soldiers were gathering up the mutilated remains of their colonel for immediate burial. Abe stood in front of Stefanie and Clive, still holding the bloodstained long sword with which he had performed the decapitation. Slowly Stefanie turned to face him.
The Japanese spoke, his face serious. Clive had no idea what he was saying, could only pray he would continue to obey his superior’s last command, even after death. What, in fact, Abe intended, they never discovered, because before he was finished the American bombers were back, and they were all diving for shelter. Yesterday Stefanie and Clive had been in the jungle when the bombs had been falling. Today they were in the encampment, and could do nothing but huddle against each other in the nearest shallow ditch, hands over heads and ears, as the bombs whined downwards before exploding, the earth shook, and men screamed.
When, after what seemed an eternity but could only have been a few minutes, the planes disappeared again, they could only stare at each other, unable to believe that neither had been hit.
But immediately there was a fresh outbreak of noise as the Allied forces resumed their attack. Stefanie and Clive hurled themselves flat again as the bullets flew and men cursed and screamed and died. ‘The Navy was never like this,’ he shouted. Thank God!’
Boots struck the earth around them, and he looked up at bayonets. And white men, in shorts and sweatstained shirts, and bush hats.
‘Well, stone the fucking crows,’ one of them remarked. ‘Who the hell are you when you’re at home, cobber?’
Chapter 13
Australia, Manila and Leyte Gulf — 1944
Juliana and her Aunt Margriet were at the airport to greet Stefanie when she landed at Darwin; they had come up especially from Sydney on being apprised that she was actually still alive.
‘Oh, Mother,’ Juliana wept. ‘We thought you were dead. But Father … ’
The Passion and the Glory Page 34
