1942

The isolation gave him a chance to think without the distractions of routine command. He stripped off his uniform and relaxed in his army shorts and sleeveless undershirt. He was filthy, but so was everyone else. Back home, people might have bathed once a week or more, but not here. There was sufficient water, but it was primarily for drinking and cooking, not bathing and showering. Crude containers had been devised to hold rainwater and springwater so that some washing and showering did occur, but it wasn’t on a frequent basis. Jake sniffed. He hadn’t had a chance to clean up in more than a week. Hawk had made the comment that it was part of their camouflage. “If you smell like a jungle, you’ll be mistaken for one,” he’d said.

Small quantities of soap were made from ashes and sand, and were strictly rationed. As a result, everyone, even the women, kept their hair very short. Jake thought Alexa looked very attractive in a haircut that would have seemed short on a man only a few months ago.

Maybe it would rain and he could let Mother Nature hose him down. But even rain wouldn’t help the tattered condition of his clothing. Like everyone else’s, it had been reduced to little more than rags. His underwear was so bad it reminded him of the type old ladies said you should never wear in case you got in an accident.

He stepped outside and looked up at the star-filled sky. No rain in sight, but there was a breeze that was comfortable on his bare skin. Although he was not a stickler for discipline, he insisted that his men- and women-be suitably dressed, rags or not. States of undress were tolerated only in situations such as this, where there was a degree of privacy.

Jake sighed and went back inside the shack. When would the radio open up and tell him when and how he was to use the pilots and planes? The obvious target was Pearl and its rebuilt fuel depots. If that was the case, what were they waiting for? The British carrier and the American pilots had run tremendous risks to get to him, and those efforts should not be wasted.

He shuddered when he thought of the danger. Not only had the pilots run the risk of getting lost or being discovered but they had made the trip with extra fuel and bombs strapped to the lower sides of the wings of their F4Fs. Like most people who don’t fly warplanes, he hadn’t given a thought to how the bombs would arrive. He hadn’t known that no pilot in his right mind-which was damned few of them-would try to land a plane with the bombs hanging below the wings. The smallest bump as they landed and they would have blown up, taking plane and pilot with them. No, bombs were always ditched in the ocean before landing.

Instead, Ernie Magruder and his cohorts had flown their lethally dangerous devices across the ocean in the night and had landed safely-bombs, fuel, and all. Now the pilots were hiding near their planes, doubtless playing cards and drinking the homemade booze that Jake tolerated for those off duty.

Another plus was the fact that they’d not yet been detected. Despite an apparent change in attitude, Japanese foot patrols still hadn’t come close to them. It was as if the Japanese garrison in Hilo was holding back and waiting for something to happen. Jake wondered if this Japanese reluctance to act had anything to do with the arrival of the planes. He had no idea what it might be, but he did feel there was a pattern of activity developing.

This stalemate could go on forever unless the Japs at Hilo were heavily reinforced, which Jake concluded was inevitable. The American presence would have to be eradicated sometime.

If the Japanese did begin sizable sweeps of the island, it would be a disaster for Jake’s men and women. They would be on the move in a harsh land and separated from their food sources. Death or capture would be only a matter of time. They could run and hide, but they had to eat. They would have to abandon the radio, which would leave them alone as well. It was a miserable thought.

He lay back on the twin bed that someone had found and put in the shack. The bed, mattress, and pillow were other reasons to take a turn waiting for the radio to hum. It was a strong and honored tradition that whoever slept in it was responsible for cleaning the sheets and pillowcase. Jake thought that was getting off cheaply.

So what would happen if their efforts failed and they were discovered? He would have to kill himself to keep the secret of Magic from falling into Japanese hands. He also felt that a number of others, Alexa included, would take their own lives as an alternative to what would happen if they were captured. After all, hadn’t the men on Lanai been prisoners who’d been executed because they were considered outlaws? As more and more was found out about conditions in Japanese prison camps, there were those who thought the victims of the Lanai massacre had been the lucky ones.