He wondered what Juana was doing at that moment, whether she was also thinking of him, or if she had already forgotten about him. Deke smiled to himself and shook his head. Maybe Philly was right — when it came to Juana, he’d gotten it bad. It would take a while for that missing piece of him to grow back.
He glanced over at Thor, who seemed to have the right idea. The dog was stretched out in the sunshine, taking a nap. Lieutenant Steele had added that they had more than a thousand miles of ocean to cross before they reached Ie Shima, so they were settling in for a long voyage. Men had taken up whatever space they could find on deck, some of them reading like Yoshio, his nose already buried in a Western, or they smoked cigarettes, or wrote letters home.
Philly had gotten a card game together, and he tried to wave Deke over, but Deke just shook his head, not interested.
Instead, Deke lay down next to Thor, feeling the sun warm him and the tropical breeze brush his hair. He was normally on high alert, but here on the ocean he had no choice but to put his trust in the ship’s crew. Realizing that, it was like a weight had lifted, and he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.
He closed his eyes and felt his mind drift. That was all right; there would be more fighting, and when it came, he would be ready.
Captain Jim Oatmire had returned to headquarters. He had not thought that he would ever look forward to mess hall cooking or his bunk, but they were far superior to C rations and sleeping on the ground. He didn’t miss any part of that. However, he did find himself missing the soldiers and guerrillas of Patrol Easy. They had an easy camaraderie that did not exist among the headquarters staff, where there were many egos to navigate and toes to step on. Although he was an officer, the soldiers had accepted him once he had proved his worth.
His original assignment to negotiate the release of hostages from the Japanese had taken some twists and turns, not going at all the way he had expected, but ultimately the hostages had survived. He knew well enough that Patrol Easy had saved the hostages, though, not him.
He didn’t feel that he deserved it, but back at HQ the outcome had earned him an attaboy — and something more. None other than General MacArthur’s chief of staff had some news for him. He had summoned Oatmire to a meeting.
“You’ve done such a good job, son, that the Old Man is sending you to Okinawa for the big show.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do there?” He waited a beat and added “sir,” realizing that Patrol Easy had rubbed off on him in more ways than one.
“I guess you could say you’re going to be a troubleshooter. Get some sleep and some chow. You’ll head out tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. That’s great,” Oatmire said, realizing with a sinking feeling that his hopes of a few days of rest had just evaporated like the morning mist in the rays of the rising sun. “That’s really great.”
The ripples left by the fighting in the Philippines kept flowing months and even years after the war. On July 4, 1946, the Philippines was recognized by the United States as an independent democratic nation. For the first time in centuries, the people of the Philippines could determine their own destiny. More than seventeen thousand Americans would stay behind as permanent residents, men and women who gave their lives fighting Imperial Japan, forever sleeping in the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial.
There was also unfinished business from the war. Early one morning in 1946, General Tomoyuki Yamashita put on his dress uniform that had been stripped of any rank or insignia. Slowly and with dignity, he climbed thirteen steps to a platform where a rope with a hangman’s noose waited.
It had taken him less than a minute to climb the stairs, but his journey to this fateful moment had taken months, if not years.
After the defeat in Manila, there had been no good end for the Japanese forces that remained in the Philippines. As the overall Japanese commanding general, Yamashita had remained behind with his troops, fighting as best they could despite running out of food, medical supplies, and ammunition. They had been abandoned by Japan. In the end, his forces became little more than a nuisance rather than a military presence. Finally, Yamashita had seen no choice but to surrender.
He lingered during the next few months as one of the highest-ranking Japanese officers held prisoner. After the war, he was put on trial for war crimes. There had to be some justice for so many civilian deaths. Some might even have called it revenge. The military trial had been a matter of going through the motions. It was a foregone conclusion that Yamashita would be found guilty of the killing spree that his troops had undertaken, although the actions of his desperate men appeared to be counter to the orders he had given.
