The officers ordered the men to steer clear of the Japanese dead, but the orders were to no avail when there was an Arisaka rifle, Nambu pistol, or especially a sword in plain sight. These weapons were more than the average GI could resist, and some paid dearly when they were lured right into a Japanese trap.
“I remember how I got caught in a booby trap one summer when I was seventeen,” Philly said. “There was this girl named Maria Vinceza, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I mean, I would walk right into traffic. Once I walked straight into a lamppost when she went by. It got so bad that my mother thought I needed glasses. Finally getting to second base with that girl made me pretty damn happy, I can tell you.”
“Sounds like another tall tale to me,” Deke said.
“Believe me when I say her booby trap was as advertised.”
Deke snorted. Philly always bragged about what a lover boy he was, but Deke didn’t believe half of it.
“That is a different booby trap,” Yoshio said, launching into an explanation. That came as no surprise — when other men were playing cards or jawing, their Nisei interpreter could usually be found with his nose in a book, even if it was often a Western novel. “The word comes from sailors who used to catch large birds called boobies in order to eat them. A booby is also an old word for fool. So it is a trap for fools.”
“Thanks for that, Yoshio. I think I prefer my definition of booby trap.”
Mostly, Deke had not given in to the same temptations as his comrades when it came to collecting souvenirs. However, he wasn’t entirely immune, because he did have a thing for knives. One of his prized finds was a beautiful Japanese dagger, more than a foot long, the hilt shiny with gold leaf, the ivory grip decorated with a tiny gold chrysanthemum.
“That is an Imperial Army
“I’ll be damned,” Deke said. Only half kidding, he added, “And here I was about to use it to open cans of rations.”
“Please don’t do that with such a beautiful knife!” Yoshio blurted, clearly alarmed.
“All right, have it your way,” Deke said, and returned the knife to his pack, wrapping it first in a scrap of oiled cloth. He had kept it there ever since. After all, he had his own custom-made bowie knife to handle just about anything that came his way, from opening cans to chopping brush to defending his foxhole.
But what they found this morning went beyond mere souvenirs.
It had been Deke who’d made the discovery when the damp earth beneath his boots had seemed to shift and give way, revealing a hidden entrance to a dark cave. The rest of Patrol Easy had halted their advance and used their entrenching tools to clear away more dirt until they realized that the cave entrance was big enough to stand up in. Beyond, there seemed to be a network of caves and tunnels. But the cave mouth was as far as any of them were willing to go.
The grim expressions on their faces conveyed a sense of dread as they stared into the abyss. The air that drifted out was foul and tainted with the odor of death and decay, almost tomb-like. Nobody wanted to go down there, but it was clearly something more extensive than the dugout caves they were used to coming across.
“Looks like we found ourselves a jackpot,” Philly whispered nervously. “What do you think, Deke? Are these caves just another trap waiting to be sprung? You know how the Japs are.”
Deke eyed the dark entryway. “I’m not in any hurry to find out, I can tell you that much.”
Lieutenant Steele studied the entrance, then turned to address his men. “All right, listen up. We’re going in. We can’t just leave a cave like this behind our lines without clearing it first. For all we know, it might be full of Japanese. Keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks like a booby trap. In other words, don’t touch a damn thing.”
To Steele’s credit, he was the first one into the cave entrance. As they ventured deeper into the tunnels, using their flashlights, the air grew cooler and the walls closed in around them, heightening their unease. Their dim lights seemed to make hardly a dent in the darkness. Rounding a corner, they stumbled upon an underground hospital, with sixteen bunks lined up neatly against the walls, eight on each side, where the tunnel passage had been widened. The bunks had been nailed together out of rough lumber, then lined with thin mattresses that could not have been very comfortable. The mattresses were dirty from use and spotted with brown bloodstains.
