“He’s in one of the old officers’ quarters on the north end of camp,” Willy said, trying to catch his breath.

“How reliable is the intel, Willy?” Martin asked.

“As good as we can get,” he answered. “I talked to an American private who’s been working as an orderly in the compound over that way. When I described Gunny McAdams, he said he couldn’t be sure but there was an American sergeant in one of the rooms they’ve been using to interrogate prisoners. When I described him, he said this had to be the same bloke. Said the bush rats had worked the poor lad over good. I asked him was they any other American sergeants in that compound he knew of, and he said no. Gotta be your animal, Henry.”

I tried not to let my excitement get the best of me. Knowing where Gunny was and getting him out were two completely different things. And the truth of it was I had no idea how to rescue him. It wasn’t like we could mount a frontal assault on the building.

Sergeant Martin rubbed his chin. Then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed Willy by the shoulders.

“How much we got in the stash?” Martin asked.

“Fifteen pounds and a few shillings, plus two packs of cigs the guards didn’t get their hands on when they searched us,” Willy answered.

“All right, here’s what we’re gonna do. You, Smitty, and Davis work out a schedule and watch that building for the rest of the day and into the evening. Find out how many guards they’ve got, when and how often they change watch, and if they’re paying close attention to what they’re doing. Take turns and switch it up often so nobody notices you watching. We don’t need anybody guessing what we’re up to.”

“Right you are,” Willy said, running off to find Davis and Smitty.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” said Sergeant Martin. “Our information is limited and only halfway reliable. But for now, we’ll wait until lights-out, and then we’ll go and see what we can see. If we can sneak in and get Gunny out with a fair chance of not losing our heads—and I mean that literally, mate—we’ll do that. If not, we’ll see if we can bribe us a guard to look the other way.”

“Do you think that’ll work? From what I’ve seen, these guards are pretty mean.”

“You’re right about that, Henry. No Japanese soldier wants to be babysitting a bunch of surrendering allies. They all want to be out on the battlefield, dying a glorious death for their bloody emperor. So we’re stuck with the worst soldiers that the Imperial Japanese Army has got. If they were any good at fighting, they’d be out actually doing it instead of guarding a bunch of dirty captives who they consider less than human.”

“The Bushido,” I said.

“You know about that, do you?”

“Yeah. Gunny explained it to me. No honor in surrender and all that.”

“Exactly right. A Japanese soldier would rather commit suicide than surrender. But every army, all over this wide world of ours, has got its share of screwups and malcontents. Even the Japanese, who are always boasting about how tough and efficient they are. They think the absolute worst Japanese soldier is still ten times better than the very best Yank or Aussie or Brit. Which is a laugh—everybody knows the Brits, with all their boarding schools and afternoon teas, are a bunch of lightweights. Wouldn’t last a day in the outback.”

“I still don’t understand. What’s that got do with us?”

“What it does is make us lucky, Henry. Because maybe the guards we’ve got here are the dregs. They ain’t happy at all to be here, and right now they’re taking it out on all of us. But the commanders are a little smarter. They know these jokers they’ve got guarding us ain’t gonna do ’em a lick of good on the battlefield. So they get assigned prison duty. Most of ’em are mean because while they may not know how to tie their shoes, they do know the reason they got assigned here is on account of them being screwups. Most of ’em are stupid. That’s the reason why they’re here in the first place. And them being stupid works to our advantage. They know there isn’t any glory for them here. So why not line their pockets while they can? One of them blokes might even think he can collect enough hard coin to bribe somebody higher up the food chain. Get himself assigned somewhere else. That means if we can’t sneak Gunny out, we might be able to bribe the guard to let us bring him back.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Seargeant Martin looked at me with a bemused expression on his face.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, our entire current situation is dangerous. We don’t have many options. Nobody’s coming to rescue us. This is about our only chance of saving Gunny. Saints be, you really are a young’n, aren’t you?”

My cheeks colored as Sergeant Martin gave me a poke on the shoulder. “So what do we do now?” I asked.

Sergeant Martin lay his big body down on a mat on the barracks floor and yawned. “I got a feeling it’s gonna be a long night. So if I were you, I’d try and get some shut-eye.”

It was amazing how fast he fell asleep. Sleep was the last thing on my mind. I was a nervous wreck. But I found a space on the crowded barracks floor next to Sergeant Martin, stretched out, and closed my eyes. The next thing I knew Smitty was shaking me awake.

“It’s time,” he said as Sergeant Martin and I stood and stretched.

Willy gave us a quick briefing, but my mind was elsewhere. It was dark outside, and my stomach was rumbling. We’d been at the camp almost three days, and as far as I knew, the Japanese had yet to feed anyone. I’d even heard soldiers whispering that they were just going to let us starve. I couldn’t believe that was true. But right now my stomach told me different.

“All right, listen up, blokes. Smitty and Willy will go first. Cut through the camp and come up on those officers’ quarters from the east. Me, Davis, and Henry here will skirt the western fence. We’ll meet up in the center of the last row of huts. It’s open ground between them and the quarters, so we gotta see what the guards are up to first. Once we get there we’ll decide who goes in. Davis, you’ll definitely be on rescue duty—you’re the only one of us strong enough to carry the bloke. Any questions?”

I had a million. But I didn’t ask any of them. Sergeant Martin, Smitty, Willy, and Davis were good soldiers. And they were putting their lives on the line to help out somebody they barely knew, strictly on my say so. What kind of men did that?

Smitty and Willy left the barracks and disappeared from sight in seconds.

“All right, mates, let’s go,” Sergeant Martin said.

Making sure there were no guards about, we left the barracks and cut to our right around the building, heading for the western edge of camp. Davis took the lead, I followed, and Martin brought up the rear. I was amazed at how a big man like Davis could move as quietly as a cat. And Sergeant Martin, despite his injuries, made very little noise as we scurried along. Practically every step I took was a labor for me.

Davis stopped without warning and put up his right hand in a fist. We burrowed up against the side of one of the barracks, and a few seconds later two guards with rifles walked by, heading south, away from us. When they had disappeared into the darkness we took off again, finally reaching the last row of tents and barracks. Davis waited. He reminded me of a hunting dog. I imagined him sniffing the air to make sure there were no guards about. When he decided it was safe, he waved us forward, and we cut north toward the officers’ quarters. Before long we reached the end of the barracks row and could see a cluster of small buildings near the camp’s northernmost fence.

The night was nearly pitch-black. No fires were allowed after lights-out, and the Japanese quarters were at the other end of camp, near the kitchen. I had to strain to see anything.

“Do you suppose Willy and Smitty made it okay?” I whispered.

Davis whistled. It sounded like a birdcall, but not one I’d ever heard before. The same whistle came back from the other side of the camp a few seconds later. They’d made it.

We moved to meet in the center. Before long a couple of shadowy figures appeared.

“Who goes there?” Smitty whispered.

“My boot is gonna go there, Private, if you don’t knock it off with the chatter,” Martin whispered back. Smitty quietly chuckled.

“We’ve only seen one guard patrolling in front of the quarters so far,” Willy reported, his voice barely audible. “If we time it right, me, Smitty, and Davis should be able to get inside without being seen. The hard part will be hustling Gunny back out. We gotta make sure he doesn’t cry out. And we’re for sure gonna need to help Davis carry him. As strong as he is, he won’t be able to move as quickly with the extra load, and speed is our friend here.”

In the shadows, I saw Davis shrug, as if carrying Gunny would be as easy as hoisting up a sack of barley. I’d still never heard him utter a word. When this was all over, I’d have to ask Smitty, Willy, or Sergeant Martin if he ever talked.

“All right,” Sergeant Martin said. “Henry and I will stay here and keep watch. If anything looks funny, we’ll give a whistle. That means you hunker down. Another whistle means the coast is clear. But if things turn batty, Willy, it’s your call. You wait until it’s safe and abort. Are we clear?”

“Abort,” I interrupted. “But Gunny—”

Sergeant Martin put his hand up and stopped me. “Just because we might not get him tonight doesn’t mean we ain’t gonna get him. But we’re going in blind. Something goes wrong, the main thing is to get out and live to fight another day. Everybody clear?”

No one raised any objections. We all watched silently as the guard moved past the building’s entrance. When he was thirty yards away, Davis, Smitty, and Willy sprinted toward the door.

I never heard them move.