Green Hell Read online

  “You wish,” said Corporal Taguchi, “to make a business arrangement of a certain kind with Lieutenant Karuma, but there's something you're not taking into consideration.”

  “What's that?”

  “He may not keep his side of the arrangement.”

  Joanna looked at him. “You're joking!”

  “I'm not joking. He has a very erratic personality, and he can't be trusted. The previous commander here thought he was quite insane.”

  Joanna thought about it for a few moments. “Well, if he doesn't keep his side of the bargain, there's nothing I can do about it, but at least I can try. At least my conscience will be clear.”

  Corporal Taguchi shook his head. “Lieutenant Karuma is a disgrace to the Japanese flag.”

  “If you believe that, why don't you do something about it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Kill him.”

  “I couldn't kill him.”

  “Why not?”’

  Corporal Taguchi sighed. “I just couldn't. It would be unthinkable for a Japanese soldier to kill his commanding officer.”

  “But if you think he's a disgrace . . .”

  Corporal Taguchi interrupted her. “I don't want to talk about that!”

  They approached the headquarters building, and revulsion filled Joanna as she thought about Lieutenant Karuma making love to her. If her stomach wasn't so empty, she'd probably vomit all over him. And what would she do if he wanted her to suck him off? Oh, my goodness, Joanna thought. What have I let myself in for?

  “Well, here we are,” said Corporal Taguchi. “Are you ready?”

  Joanna nodded. “I have the courage of my convictions, even if you don't.”

  Corporal Taguchi's face flushed with shame as he climbed the steps beside Joanna, because he knew she was right. He didn't like Lieutenant Karuma and ought to do something about it, but what? What could an ordinary Japanese soldier do?

  He opened the door to the office, and Lieutenant Karuma was seated behind his desk, reading a newspaper that had arrived from Japan that day. He didn't look up as Joanna and Corporal Taguchi entered the office and approached his desk.

  “What does she want?” he asked, not looking up from the newspaper.

  “She says that she will do anything you want, providing that you don't kill any more natives.”

  Lieutenant Karuma continued to look at the newspaper. “I see. I assume she means she's going to tell me all about the Americans.”

  “I don't know, sir.”

  “Very well, you may leave us alone now.”

  Corporal Taguchi wanted to point out that Lieutenant Karuma didn't speak English and Joanna didn't speak Japanese, but then he realized that all of them knew what really was going to happen. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I'll be nearby in case you need me for anything.”

  “I doubt whether I'll need you for anything. You may return to your barracks.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Corporal Taguchi saluted and marched out of the office. Lieutenant Karuma looked at Joanna coldly, and she tried to smile at him, but the smile came out crooked. He nodded his head emphatically, and she assumed he was agreeing to the terms of her proposition and wouldn't kill any more natives. She hoped he would keep his word. Anyway, she nodded to indicate she was willing to uphold her side of the bargain.

  A smile broke out on his face, revealing his crooked yellowing teeth. He chuckled, obviously quite pleased with himself, and opened a drawer in his desk, taking out a bottle of sake and two little tin cups. He poured sake into the cups and pushed one of them toward her.

  She picked up the cup and hoped it would get her drunk, so it'd be easier for her to handle what was going to happen. Raising it to her lips, she threw her head back and dumped the stuff down her throat. It made her feel warm, and she wiggled the cup, indicating that she wanted more. His smile became broader and he filled it to the brim. She winked at him and raised the cup again. Maybe if I drink enough of this stuff, I won't feel anything, she thought.

  In the jungle on the outskirts of the camp Butsko lay on his stomach and peered at the stockade through his binoculars. Lying on either side of him were Bannon and Jimmy Hughes.

  “There it is,” Butsko said. “I hope none of the bombs land on it.”

  “Captain Eadie told Guadalcanal to make sure the pilots avoid it,” Jimmy Hughes said.

  Butsko examined the camp through his binoculars. The buildings destroyed in the previous bombing raid were in the process of being rebuilt, and all the bomb craters were filled with earth. Turning his binoculars toward the mountain, he focused on the spot where the ammunition cave had been, but couldn't locate it. Boy, did we fuck that up, he thought proudly. He scanned the camp once more, memorizing all the major buildings and landmarks, and then lowered his binoculars.

  “Let's get out of here,” Butsko said.

  They crawled backward until they were out of sight of the camp, then stood and made their way through the jungle to the spot where the others were hiding. The men from the recon platoon, plus Lieutenant MacDoughal, were lying in one area, and thirty-eight natives armed with M 1 rifles and carbines sat together not too far away. The natives wore Army boots, khaki shirts, and lavalava skirts. Some wore earrings and nose ornaments carved from bone.

  Butsko motioned with his hand, and the recon platoon fell in behind him. The natives took their positions behind the recon platoon. Butsko waved his hand forward, and they moved through the jungle, heading to a place close to the prison compound. Jimmy Hughes was skilled at moving through the jungle, and he led the way all crouched over, knowing exactly where he was going, for he'd reconnoitered the camp many times.

  It took a half hour, and then they stopped at the edge of the jungle directly opposite the prisoner compound. The camp stretched before them, lit by the electric light bulbs on poles. Lights also shone in some of the windows, and occasionally a Japanese soldier could be seen wandering around among the barracks.

  “Hotshot,” said Butsko, “get the flares ready.”

  “Hup, Sarge.”

  “Don't fire anything until I tell you.”

  “Got it.”

  Hotshot Stevenson took the special pistol out of his back and laid it down beside the box of flares. His job would be to fire the flares and illuminate the camp after the Japanese doused their lights.

  Butsko looked at his watch; it was thirty minutes after midnight. “Shouldn't be long now,” he said to his men. Jimmy Hughes relayed the same message to the natives in their language. Everybody settled down and waited for the bombers from Guadalcanal to arrive.

  Lieutenant Karuma, bleary-eyed from the amount of sake he'd drunk, placed his tin cup on the desk and pointed to the cot against the far wall. Joanna, still desiring to postpone the inevitable, held up her cup and wiggled it. Lieutenant Karuma shook his head no.

  Joanna took a deep breath. I guess this is it, she thought grimly. But at least she was half drunk. That would make it easier. She stood and walked toward the cot like a man on death row walking the last mile to the electric chair. Lieutenant Karuma pushed his chair back, stumbled around his desk, and followed her.

  She reached the cot and turned around to face him. He unfastened the top button on his shirt and motioned for her to undress too. She touched her long dainty fingers to her blouse, but somehow she couldn't go through with it. She simply couldn't take off her clothes in front of him and have him see her naked body. She pointed at the light on the table, and he shook his head: He wanted to leave it on, the bastard. His shirt was unbuttoned to his navel now, and she could see the prickly hairs on his bony chest. She didn't know what to do and wanted to run out the door, but then she remembered the native who'd had his head cut off that morning and began to unbutton her blouse.

  He tore his shirt off, and she could see the sinewy muscles in his shoulders and arms. He sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse, and he pulled off his stockings, laying them neatly on top of his boots.
Then he stood up and looked at her. He scowled and shouted, and she realized he was mad at her for being so slow. He unbuckled his pants and pushed them down, stepping out of them. Now he wore only a strange white undergarment that resembled a jockstrap, and he dropped it, too, revealing his long, skinny pecker, which she thought was the ugliest pecker she'd ever seen in her life.

  How am I going to go through with this? she thought unhappily. She undid the last button of her, blouse and untucked it, spreading it wide. Lieutenant Karuma gazed at her breasts, which were full and round and only partially covered by the lacy white brassiere that she'd brought with her from Australia. The brassiere was torn over her left nipple, and the little brown nubbin could be seen quite clearly. The sight of it drove the sex-starved Lieutenant Karuma completely out of his mind. He dived on her, buried his face between her breasts, and she lost her balance, falling onto the cot.

  Lieutenant Karuma landed on top of her, snorting and slobbering at her breasts, drooling and really being disgusting. With a mad cry of passion he grabbed her brassiere, pulled hard, and tore it away, revealing her sumptuous breasts. Then he lowered his head and lapped them like a dog while poking his fingers between her legs, scratching and pinching.

  She closed her eyes tightly and chewed her lips as a tear rolled down her cheek. Oh, Lord, she whispered, please help me.

  The telephone rang. Lieutenant Karuma raised his head and swore in Japanese. Then he reached down with his tongue and licked her left nipple. The telephone rang again, and it appeared that he was going to ignore it. He sucked her nipple into his mouth and nibbled it with his teeth.

  The sirens went on outside, wailing into the night, and moments later the lights on the poles went out. Lieutenant Karuma realized he'd better snap out of his foolishness, because evidently the Americans were going to stage a night bombing attack. Jumping to his feet, he ran naked to his desk, turned off the light, and picked off the telephone.

  “Lieutenant Karuma here!” he said.

  “Sir,” said the voice on the other end, “American bombers have been observed approaching New Georgia.”

  “Follow through with defense procedures.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lieutenant Karuma hung up the phone and looked at his bed. The girl still lay there with her clothes on and her breasts hanging out. Well, he thought, the American bombers will never be able to see this camp with all the lights out, so I might as well get back to what I was doing. He tiptoed across the room to the bed and lowered himself on Joanna.

  “I'm back, my dear,” he said to her in Japanese, burying his face in her savory breasts once more, and she closed her eyes, feeling as if a pile of shit had been dropped on her.

  She tried to imagine that he was her boyfriend, Johnny Burke, but Johnny was a big, husky fellow who was a master at making love, and it didn't work. Well, she thought, I guess God isn't going to help me much, so somehow I'll have to get through this on my own.

  Butsko heard the sirens howl over and over again, and the lights on the poles went out, plunging the camp into darkness except for lights in some of the buildings, and one by one they went out too. Butsko looked at Hotshot Stevenson.

  “Get ready,” he said.

  Hotshot pointed the special pistol into the air. It was loaded with a flare, and he had a second flare in his left hand, ready to reload instantly. The sirens diminished in volume, and gradually the hum of the bombers and fighter planes could be heard.

  Lieutenant MacDoughal raised his face to the sky. “Should be here in a few more minutes,” he said. “Better shoot up the flares.”

  “You heard him!” Butsko said to Hotshot. “Let ‘em rip!”

  Hotshot pulled the trigger, and the pistol went pop. The flare shot out of the barrel and flew into the sky, where it fizzled and lit up, hanging there, illuminating the camp. Hotshot reloaded quickly and fired the second flare, then picked up a third flare and loaded it in. He fired again and again, and it wasn't long before the camp was lit as bright as day.

  Lieutenant Karuma, reaching for the belt of Joanna's slacks, saw his office suddenly become light. He froze, wondering what had happened, and then a few seconds later it became even brighter. Jumping off Joanna, he ran to the window and looked outside.

  What he saw filled him with terror and made his pecker shrivel up. Flares glowed brightly above his camp, illuminating everything, and the bombers would arrive at any moment! His camp was a bright glowing target in the middle of the night! Who had shot up those flares?

  Considerations of sex and passion flew from his mind, and he scooped up his clothes from the floor, hastily putting them on. Light shone brightly through the windows of his office, pulsating as each new flare exploded high in the air. He put on his helmet, strapped on his pistol and samurai sword, and sat on the cot, pulling on his leather boots.

  Joanna watched him, trying to be still, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but she needn't have worried. American bombers were approaching, and Lieutenant Karuma was getting ready for war. Someone had shot up flares and he had to stop them if he could.

  Antiaircraft batteries fired in the distance, and the bombers were so close that the walls of the building vibrated with the roar of their engines. Lieutenant Karuma ran out the door, hollering and screaming, looking around to see where the flares were being fired from. He saw a line of light arise from the jungle not far away and pointed at it with his samurai sword.

  “Over there!” he screamed.

  His men were cowering in trenches, hoping no bombs would fall on them, and Lieutenant Karuma's voice came to them through the rumble of bomber engines overhead. Sergeants ordered the men out of the trenches so they could follow Lieutenant Karuma, who was pointing to a part of the jungle and running in that direction. The soldiers climbed out of the trenches and followed Lieutenant Karuma, although they knew the bombs were going to fall at any moment.

  In the jungle Butsko and the others saw the Japanese soldiers running toward them across the clearing.

  “Open fire!” yelled Butsko.

  The men from the recon platoon pulled the triggers of their submachine guns, and the natives fired their rifles. Their first volley cut down a dozen of the Japanese soldiers, but the officer leading them urged the rest onward.

  “Get that son of a bitch!” Butsko yelled.

  The men from the recon platoon turned their gun barrels on the Japanese officer, and Lieutenant Karuma found himself in the midst of a hailstorm of bullets, which kicked up the dirt around his feet, whizzed past his ears, and zipped past his waist. He dropped to the ground and held his helmet tight on his head.

  The engines of bombers snarled above him as they began their dive-bombing runs. Lieutenant Karuma shivered to the marrow of his bones as the planes dropped closer to earth and let loose their bombs. The big metallic eggs whistled as they fell toward the ground, and Lieutenant Karuma couldn't run and hide because the enemy in the jungle had him pinned down with automatic weapons fire.

  Barrrooooommmmm! The first of the bombs landed in the middle of the clearing not too far from Lieutenant Karuma, and the ground beneath him heaved violently. Another bomb landed on a barracks nearby and blew it to smithereens. More bombs fell on the brightly lit encampment, and Lieutenant Karuma relived the nightmare on the mountain when the ammunition dump was exploding. Once again the world around him was torn apart by flames and explosions, and there was nothing he could do.

  In the jungle Butsko jumped to his feet and raised his submachine gun high in the air. “Charge!” he yelled. “Follow me!”

  Butsko lowered his submachine gun to his waist and fired it from left to right as he ran out of the jungle and headed toward the prison compound. Behind him came the recon platoon, their submachine guns blazing, and on their flanks were the natives, shooting their M1s and carbines wildly, screaming and hollering.

  They charged across the clearing as bombs rained down on the Japanese camp and American fighter planes strafed the Japanese soldiers who'd followed Lieu
tenant Karuma into the clearing. But the section of the clearing where the prisoner compound was located received no bombs or fire, and the Japanese soldiers there had dropped to the ground and were firing at the American soldiers and natives coming at them out of the woods. One native was shot through the head and three more stopped bullets with their torsos. Then Hotshot Stevenson caught a bullet in his groin and was overwhelmed by terrible searing pain. His legs lost their coordination and the world spun around him as he dropped to the ground.

  The recon platoon and natives kept charging and swarmed over the Japanese soldiers near the prison compound, shooting them as they lay on the ground. The natives inside the prison compound were crowded near the barbed wire, wide-eyed, as Butsko and his men charged the front gate. Butsko fired his submachine gun at the locking mechanism and blew it to bits. He kicked open the door of the compound and ran inside.

  “Everybody out!” he yelled. “Let's fucking go!”

  The natives ran toward the open gates. A white woman appeared in front of Butsko. “You've got to save Joanna!” she said.

  “Who's Joanna?” Butsko replied.

  The woman pointed across the clearing to Lieutenant Karuma's headquarters. “She's in there! Please save her!”

  Butsko looked around and saw Frankie La Barbara. “Come with me!”

  Butsko and Frankie pushed their way through the natives and ran across the clearing toward Lieutenant Karuma's headquarters. They entered the part of the camp where bombs were falling and the American fighter planes strafed back and forth.

  Frankie La Barbara was so scared he couldn't think straight. A bomb blew up a building to his right, sending timbers and shingles flying in all directions. Bullets from American fighter planes stitched lines around them, and Japanese soldiers fired their rifles at them. Butsko ran a few feet in front of Frankie, keeping his head low, firing his submachine gun from left to right, and Frankie struggled to keep up with him, shooting his own submachine gun at anything that moved and even at things that didn't move.