My defense counsel met me at the Makalapa headquarters main entrance. It had taken the entire week for me to get through my story because we didn’t stay in session all day. Apparently there were several other courts and boards of various kinds being held at PacFleet headquarters. Besides, my voice tired easily.
We headed past the decorations and flag stands of the formal main entrance and past the attending Marines and then walked down a long corridor leading to a back door. I’d been able to find a pair of slacks and a white shirt and tie at the Lucky Bag in the bachelor officers’ quarters, so I was a bit more presentable now. I’d had my hair cut and the beard shaved, so now my walnut-stained face, highlighted by that long white scar, was fully visible. Other officers were in the corridor, some carrying charts and others briefing folders, and all wearing worried expressions. Apparently the Philippines operation was touch and go and there’d been rumors of Jap battleships ambushing a formation of our carriers. Not surprisingly, the fleet headquarters was the virtual Grand Central Station for rumors.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” a voice said behind. “Fish: is that you?”
I turned to recognize a three-striper stopped in the corridor. It was Channing Cox, my skipper at Midway in Bombing Six. “What in God’s name happened to your face?”
He walked over and shook my hand while I stood there, speechless. “You’re alive,” he said. “We thought you went down with Hornet. Where the hell you been, Lieutenant? And what’re you doing here at Makalapa?”
My defense counsel rescued me. “He’s the subject of a court of inquiry,” he said. “He was picked up on the island of Talawan in the Philippines, along with a bunch of Brit POWs. The Navy didn’t—doesn’t—believe he is who he says he is.”
“Are you shitting me?” Commander Cox asked.
“No, sir.”
“Bobby,” he said. “Surely you’ve told them—”
I pointed to my face. The first time I’d seen it in a mirror onboard that destroyer I wouldn’t have believed it either. “I’ve spent the past week telling my story. Is there any chance…”
“Hell yes,” he said. “Is that where you’re going? To this court?”
I nodded. He handed his folders to a lieutenant commander who’d been walking with him and off we went. Within an hour my legal ordeal was over. The president of the court told me to report to the CO of the naval air station at Ford Island for reassignment. Then he said he wanted to speak to me in private. We left the courtroom and walked down to the CincPacFleet dining room and coffee mess. The stewards brought us coffee and then we sat down at one of the tables.
“I have to tell you, Lieutenant: I was very impressed by your testimony. I think you deserve official recognition for what you and your radioman-gunner did there on Talawan. I urge you to write this all down before you forget it.”
“I’m not likely to ever forget it, Captain,” I said.
“Yeah, I understand that. I’m talking about details, times, places, dates if you can manage it. Write it up, then get that report to me. I think it’s important, both for the navy and your own career.”
My career, I thought. That word hadn’t crossed my mind once in the past, what, almost two years? Career?
“I have one question, which I deliberately didn’t bring up in open session.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Where is Radioman Baynes?”
“Missing,” I said, promptly, and then told my preplanned fable. “He went back to the village once the destroyer showed up. It took us two days to get the POWs out to the ship. When it was time for me to take a boat out there I sent a runner to Lingoro to get Rooster. They said he’d gone upland because of a report that a Jap patrol had been seen. The captain of the destroyer said he had to leave that morning. And, so…”
The captain looked at me. “And that’s your story, is it?”
I looked down at the table, a bit ashamed. He’d seen right through it. Captains often did that. “I think he earned it, Captain,” I said quietly. “He was never going back into a cockpit after all he’d gone through. I think he’ll do more good in that little village than he could ever do in what remains of this damned war.”
“Is that so,” he said. He finished his coffee. “Okay, I will officially take that thesis under advisement. I recommend that you make his disappearance a little more mysterious when you write up what happened there at the end.”
The look on his face was officially stern, but there was a twinkle of sympathetic humor in his eyes. He understood perfectly.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome, Lieutenant. Now: how’s about getting into a proper uniform, now that you’re back in the land of rules and regulations. By the way, I know a skin doctor here up at Tripler who might be able to fix that face of yours. Get up there and ask for Doctor Jack Hall. He’s really good. Unless of course you want to keep it?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, Captain,” I said. “I’m still pretty tired.”
He nodded. “You did well out there, Lieutenant. Very well. Take the next week off before reporting to Ford Island. Get up to Tripler. Write up your story, and then get it back over here. You know where to find me.”
Suddenly I was at a loss for words. The tapestry of all that had happened began to parade before my eyes. The room was suddenly blurred. The captain put a hand on my shoulder. “You did good, son. You did real good. And here’s something you might not know. After what you went through, especially aboard Hornet and then Hagfish, not to mention Talawan, you’ll be officially offered the option of simply going home. You’ve done more than your share of fighting this war. We are going to win this thing. We know it, I think the Japs know it. And then, it will be time to get on with the rest of your life. Trust me when I say no one would gainsay your decision to simply go home.”
Again I didn’t know what to say, but the idea of going home had never occurred to me. He looked at his watch and said he had to go; yet another court was in the offing. I sat there for a few minutes and then went to find the shuttle back down to the BOQ at the naval base.
Interestingly, my room in the BOQ was just about identical to the one I’d stayed in waiting for the Big E to come back into port. This time, however, there was no seabag and no orders packet. At some point I’d have to go find a paymaster, a uniform shop, and an ID office to reestablish who I was. Or at least who I’d once been. In the meantime, I had some writing to do.
The only souvenir from Talawan was an ornately carved bamboo tube Magron had brought down to the pier as I was waiting for the next and last boat out to the destroyer, whose stacks were puffing with impatient steam. It was not quite four feet long and slightly curved, but it had been signed or at least marked by all sorts of people from Lingoro and Orotai. It was heavy for bamboo, but it was also almost three inches in diameter, which probably accounted for the weight. I’d carried it all the way back to Pearl like some oversized baton, much to the consternation of some of my fellow passengers.
I went over to the closet and rousted it out. I read through the signatures, touched the carved totem faces and figures, most of which I couldn’t recognize. I smelled the wood and all the sights, sounds, and memories of Talawan came flooding back. I laid it down on my bed and then noticed there was a thin green line about ten inches from one end that went all the way around. I hadn’t seen that before.
Then it hit me: Was that a seam? Was there something inside?
I picked it back up and shook it. It didn’t feel like there was anything inside, but that green line was marginally wider now. The ends of the tube had been carved into complex handles, like a rolling pin. I gave one a hard pull and by God, it popped off. Inside was a roll of what looked like saw grass leaves, wrapped so tightly I could barely pull them out, after which I raised the tube to see what slid out.
Tachibana’s great sword fell out onto the bed. I almost stopped breathing. The sword wasn’t very clean, with green stains from the leaves on the mother-of-pearl-encrusted handle. There was also a faint odor of something truly nasty rising from it. I stared at it for a moment and then grasped the handle and tried to pull the blade out of its scabbard, but it seemed to be stuck. Then it moved. When I saw why it was so sticky I quickly pushed it back in to the hilt.
Just a friendly little reminder from Magron, I thought. This is what becomes of occupiers on Talawan Island.
My brain tilted for a moment, and then I made a decision. The captain had been right. It was indeed time for me to just go home. Enough was enough.