“One dead Jap,” Jake said. “Good shooting.”

“Sir, I could nail him if you’d let me.”

“Sure, and you’d get us all killed.”

The Japanese officer was about three hundred yards away. Hawkins was a crack shot and could have dropped him easily.

However, the Japanese officer was the leader of a column of infantry that looked about platoon strength. That meant the Americans hidden on the hill overlooking the Japanese were outnumbered three or four to one. However tempting it might be, they were not going to give away their position, even their existence, to a Japanese patrol who had no idea they were being watched.

“You’ll get your turn,” Jake said.

These were the first Japanese the small group of Americans had seen outside Hilo, and it looked like they were nothing more than a probe to see what lay in the interior of the island. Half an hour earlier, four trucks, a staff car, and the platoon had driven up and parked at the intersection of two dirt roads. From the casual way they moved about, it appeared that they didn’t expect to find anything exciting. Just a drive in the country.

Jake was grateful the hills in the area were so thickly covered by shrubs and low, twisting trees. His small army could hide within feet of the Japanese and wouldn’t be seen unless a Jap was lucky enough to stumble over them. Since the Japs were road bound, this was highly unlikely.

It was tempting to kill one or two Japs and then retire into the boondocks, but Jake nixed the thought. It was not yet time to let anyone know they existed.

“More Japs,” Private Dunbar whispered. Another column of trucks began to emerge from a valley about a half-mile away. All the more reason not to draw attention. The new column, also four trucks and a car, drew up to the first group and stopped. Now their numerical disadvantage had doubled.

“Gang’s all here,” one of Jake’s men commented.

“Oh, shit,” Hawkins snarled. “They’ve got prisoners.”

A half dozen men in blue denim had been thrown from the back of one of the trucks. They clustered together on the ground while the Japs circled them. The Americans on the hill could hear distant laughter.

“Sailors,” said one of the marines. “Probably some of our guys from the St. Louis. And there’s not a damned thing we can do to help them, is there, Colonel?”

“That’s right, not a damned thing,” Jake said grimly.

“Now what the hell?” Hawkins muttered.

The American prisoners had been pushed behind one of the trucks. Their hands had been tied in front of them and then to the truck. They stood there, a pathetic little group, while the rest of the Japs loaded up in their vehicles.

“Bastards are gonna make them walk to Hilo,” said Dunbar.

“I don’t like this,” Jake whispered. His stomach tightened. Something terrible was about to happen.

The vehicles started up and began to move slowly down the road. It was straight for about a mile, and Jake could see everything as it unfolded. At first, the prisoners were able to keep pace with the slowly moving truck, but then the truck speeded up and they had to try to run. The sailors were doubtless weak from wounds and hunger, and they hadn’t gone more than a few yards at a trotting speed before one of them stumbled and fell. It was like a bowling ball hitting pins. First one man fell, then the others dropped until they were all being dragged by their bound hands along the dirt road.

“Stop, you motherfuckers!” screamed Hawkins.

Instead, the Japanese vehicle continued to accelerate. The six men bounced along the road like children’s toys in a sickening dance of bloody death. Whatever screams they made were drowned out by the sound of the trucks and the distance involved. Jake wondered if the sailors were all dying in stunned silence.

A few moments later, the Jap column and its hideous cargo were out of sight. Jake and his men stood in silence. Several were crying in anger and frustration, and Jake felt tears on his own cheeks. The Japs would pay for this.

“You gonna radio this in, sir?” Hawkins asked.

Jake thought for a moment. It would be risky, but the truth of the Japanese atrocity had to be told. He had a code and a list of frequencies to use. He would take the chance. “Yeah. Tonight when it’s real late and all the little yellow bastards are sound asleep.”

Jake wondered how the sailors had been caught since the Japs had been so casual in their patrolling. Was it bad luck? Hey, even a halfhearted attempt at hiding should have worked. Or had they surrendered in the desperate hope they’d be treated fairly? Then it struck him that maybe they’d been turned in by a local. He might never know, but the possibility would make him redouble his caution.

Hawkins nodded. “I learned something today, sir.”

“What’s that, Hawk?”

“No fucking way I’m gonna be taken prisoner.”

Admiral Yamamoto felt that Prime Minister Tojo was not quite the man for the job of leading the nation. Perhaps Tojo was a good army minister, but it looked like the combined duties of army minister and prime minister were overwhelming. Yamamoto thought Tojo was not enough of an internationalist to cope with being prime minister. The result was a man who was nervous and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“More military successes, Admiral?” Tojo asked with a brittle smile.

“Some, but nothing grand. We have defeated a joint Anglo, Dutch, and American squadron in the Java Sea and are consolidating our landings in that area. The naval portion of the noose is tightening around the Americans in the Philippines. With MacArthur having abandoned them, it is only a matter of time before they too surrender.”

“It’s taken the army enough time already.” Tojo sniffed. “The Americans are outnumbered and starving.”

The comment surprised Yamamoto. In effect, the prime minister had just criticized the army minister, himself. “Very shortly,” the admiral said, “our fleet will sail into the Coral Sea and strike at Port Moresby as a precursor to invading Australia.”

“And the operation against the British in the Indian Ocean remains canceled?”

“Regrettably, yes. We are stretched too thin, and our men and equipment are too fatigued to undertake it at this time.”

Tojo agreed that it was regrettable but made no further objection. Yamamoto knew the capabilities and limitations of his fleet. If he said the raid was a bad idea at this time, then so be it.

“And Hawaii?”

“Organized resistance is over. The army is withdrawing, and our marines are garrisoning Oahu and the Hilo region of Hawaii. Some of the fuel depot is already repaired, and tankers are en route to begin stockpiling oil. When that occurs, Oahu will be a truly viable fortress.”

Tojo nodded. “You are aware that the first American food convoy is on its way. The kempetei will be on the alert to ensure that the Americans don’t try to sneak in spies or saboteurs.”

“I’m certain Colonel Omori will do an excellent job, Prime Minister. However, that does bring me to a point. It might appear that he is being overenthusiastic in his application of authority. A case in point might be that massacre of prisoners the Americans are screaming about.”

While the army had led the patrol, it had been the handful of kempetei operatives escorting them who had ordered that the Americans be dragged to death behind the truck.

“The Americans were outlaws,” Tojo said. “According to international law, they were subject to execution. However, I agree that a little more prudence was called for. I am also surprised that the Americans found out about it and so quickly. Any thoughts, Admiral?”

“Prime Minister, I said that organized resistance had ceased, but there still remain some incidences of disorganized resistance. The death of the prisoners might have been observed, and the information either radioed or telephoned to someone able to get it out of the islands. We have evidence that there are other stray American military personnel in the area, and the information may have come from them. If nothing else, this will definitely discourage any remaining Americans from surrendering, which could be unfortunate.”