Yasuyuki Kasai - Dragon of the Mangroves

“Look sharp! Why don’t you swim properly?”

Urged by Tomita in a low voice, Kasuga started kicking the water. Then the throbbing pain of his thigh returned. Uncanny things, indistinguishable between seaweed and fish, sometimes touched his bare skin, making him shudder every time. He wanted to get out of the water as soon as possible.

Seventh Company was going ahead. He could see a group swimming skillfully with overhand strokes. Their spearhead had already melted away into the silent darkness toward the continent far in the distance. Kasuga thought some swimming experts in the vanguard were probably leading the whole company.

Suddenly, a stifling scream went up from the darkness.

It wasn’t as loud as it was deep and piercing. The grievous voice sounded like a cry for help. Kasuga and others in their column stopped swimming instinctively.

Someone had called out carelessly in the middle of the secret operation, breaking through enemy lines. It was unthinkably absurd behavior. An accusing voice slipped from someone’s lips on their right. “Oh, shit! What a stupid guy!”

“Did something serious happen to someone in the Seventh?” Kasuga asked himself. But the following event didn’t give him even a moment to think it about.

A whistle was heard from nowhere apparent, then a dazzling light quite unexpectedly flashed on in the left—an enemy searchlight, no doubt. A gunboat had been lurking somewhere in the creek. The white shaft of light immediately started scanning the area, and a great number of heads of Japanese soldiers emerged on the surface, as black as India ink.

“Sarge!” Kasuga uttered out of fear.

The staccato of a machine gun began roaring on his left, accompanied by the low-pitched exhaust. Tomita immediately warned his men in an unexpectedly louder voice than usual; even he seemed flustered. “They spotted us. They’ll kill us for sure if we keep swimming. Go back to the island! Then if you make it, dive inside as deep as you can. Don’t dawdle at the edge, or you’ll get riddled!”

Kasuga changed directions as he was told. He faced the bank, held tightly to the bamboo pole, and kicked the water frantically. Then another crack went up from behind, sounding like a high-pitched drum beat. He looked back and saw an object emitting blue light and wafting overhead. Bathed in the bright light of the parachute flare, an enemy barge, like the one he had witnessed two days before spitting countless streaks of fire indiscriminately in the middle of the creek, revealed itself. Agonizing screams of Japanese soldiers went up, mixed with the incessant clamor of the heavy machine gun roaring and the whistle shrieking.

Where in the world did the silence go? Now everything was maddening.

Almost panicked, Kasuga swam toward the bank for his life. He didn’t know when he had made it; he had been scuttling on all fours on the mud near a big tree when he noticed.

Already the creek was out of his view. But the enemy was raking through the area along the edge, as Tomita had said, and many streaks of colorfully sparkling tracers pierced the mangrove from behind. They were beautiful, but countless invisible bullets surely preceded each spark tail. Of course, everything would be over if any of them hit him.

“Come here, Mister Kasuga!”

It was the voice of First Class Private Tada. Straining his eyes, Kasuga managed to find two figures looming in front of the big tree. They were Tomita and Tada. Both were squatting and beckoning to him. Kayama, the ammo bearer, wasn’t with them. That fat, slow-footed soldier had likely gotten lost or killed already. Kasuga sidled up to them as fast as his legs could carry him. Having timed the enemy fire, the three ran further inland by using the trunks and roots of big trees as their cover.

Finally they made a clean escape deep into the sea of foliage, seemingly safe for the time being. Everyone had been too tired to speak when the tumult of war finally settled down. They didn’t see any other friends there, and they had no way to find anyone in the darkness.

“We lost the unit. We can do nothing but to wait here for daybreak,” Tomita said.

Then Kasuga was seized by deadly drowsiness. He pulled a dripping wet jacket out of his haversack, slipped it on, and lay down on the ground with his head pillowed on entangled, muddy roots. His energies were almost used up by the battle, which had lasted nearly a month.

“How wasteful it is to use what little strength I have left not in escape or combat, but in pulling back to the starting place!” Kasuga told himself. He fell into a deep sleep, despite being as wet as a drowned rat.

Kasuga had the dream of the dragon coming out of the water fountain at the Hachiman shrine again. As usual, he couldn’t move in front of the statue, which was wriggling to substantiate itself.

This time the dragon with the golden eyes began spurting fire from its mouth after it had come alive. He saw flares between the rows of sharp-pointed teeth wriggle and whirl lively, as if each were an animal itself. Suddenly one of those came at him across the air. Twining itself around his legs while he stood there in a daze, the flare rushed up to his head. He resigned himself to his fate and felt the fire scorching his whole body mercilessly.

Then he was released from the old dream and woke up. The mangrove where he lay was gloomy, even in the daylight. But still, he noticed several sunrays coming down almost vertically through the dense tree crowns. These bright patches mottled the mud on the ground, and a thin column of vapor rose from each spot.

He had apparently slept until nearly high noon. Gasping in stifling mugginess, he raised his upper body and found himself covered with sticky sweat. This tropical heat had likely caused his nightmares. Even so, he wondered why he had the same dream every so often. He supposed it might mean something important.

Then Kasuga put his lips to a hole drilled on his bamboo pole. The water inside was unexpectedly cool enough to moisten his throat, which revived him slightly.

Tomita and Tada had already awakened. Both men were so dirty that they looked like mud dolls. But Tomita worked to keep morale high. He had searched the area and had already found no less than twenty stray soldiers.

After the terrible confusion, the operation had ended in a miserable failure.

Numerous soldiers had probably been killed. Of course, some could have broken through the enemy patrol line and reached the continent. But most probably had no option but to pull back to the island like they did.

All the men whom Tomita picked up belonged to Fifth Company. Having

lost their unit as well, they had been wandering the mangrove since the day broke. There was a probationary officer among them. But this man who out-ranked all was no more than a fledgling, a student-turned-reserve-officer with no experience of actual warfare. Such a man must have had enough, having been thrown into the harsh crossing operation on the spur of the moment. He developed a mental disorder and seemed of no use as a commander. So a veteran sergeant, whose wiry and firm body reminded Kasuga of a steel bar, led the group instead. Those who were there then decided to try crossing the creek independently that night again, following discussions between Tomita and this sergeant.

The enemy would be patrolling there, as always. Everyone could tell the way was perilous enough. Nevertheless, they concluded the bungle of the massive mobilization all at once had caused the failure the previous night and assumed they could made it if they did it in small groups.

At first, Sergeant Steel Bar of Fifth Company insisted they should join up with Sixth Company and wage a guerilla war. But Tomita rejected it flatly, saying,

“What will you do if the enemy lands at Taungup? We’ll lose all the places we could even to shift to anymore. We’ll be isolated and deserted on all sides. In the first place, the regiment commander himself is urging us to get away from the island and come back.” Tomita was sticking to the evacuation plan, no matter what.