“Koiso started it.”

  “This no longer has to do with Koiso alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s us Japanese against you Taiwanese!”

  Mingji fixed his eyes on them, but inwardly he felt depressed. Normally the Japanese were rational and clear-headed and knew the difference between right and wrong. Then why did they act so crazy when they were together?

  “Well, gentlemen, what are we going to do?” asked Mingji sadly.

  “We’ll settle this with a fight.”

  “How?”

  “All of you against the five of us.”

  “No, we’ll choose five too,” said Mingji.

  “There’s no need; we’ll take on all of you.”

  Mingji insisted that five against five was fair. In the end both sides agreed to return to base and meet at the sandy area behind the No. 2 Metal Shop. Aoki led the four other Japanese downstairs first. After descending a few steps, he turned around and spoke to Huang Huosheng, who just stood there gaping.

  “Hey, Mr. Nozawa, whose side are you on?”

  “Of course I …”

  “Nozawa, you go join their side!” interrupted Mingji.

  “Are you saying … Yes, I’ll join the commander’s side.”

  “No, we have enough. One more might prove to be a spy. Then what would we do?”

  After Aoki left, the Taiwanese began discussing how to respond to the challenge. The more they talked, the more they blamed Mingji for going too far and creating their current predicament.

  “How can we fight them?”

  “Why not? The officers won’t do anything,” said Mingji.

  “There will be no end to the trouble later.”

  “But we’re not just going to take this lying down, are we?”

  “Just act like nothing happened.”

  “Sure. When something big is downplayed it just goes away. What’s the point of forcing the issue? Just look at the mess.”

  “A nice break ends in a fight.”

  “It’s not worth it.”

  “Not worth it!” said Mingji, between tears and laughter.

  “It’s strange. Mingji, you are usually so quiet and keep to the background. Now look at you—some horse piss to drink and you change completely.”

  “In that case,” said Mingji despondently, “I started this, I’ll go and fight it out alone. I hope that some of you will join me, though.”

  In the end, four others volunteered, for a total of five. Feeling somewhat bolstered, they all went back to the base for the fight. Only Nozawa hid.

  Later, whenever Mingji thought about that fight, which had so much significance for him, he would feel miserable and become quite emotional. For as they approached the sandy area at the appointed time, his companions—including the four volunteers—all stopped and would proceed no farther.

  “Ha ha! Just one man?” laughed Aoki as he stroked his moustache knowingly.

  “You’re going to have the tar beaten out of you.”

  “One man is enough,” said Mingji indifferently.

  “You’d better give up now,” said Iwami.

  “You Taiwanese cowards have no courage,” said Matsushita.

  “There’s one Taiwanese here. Come on!” said Mingji proudly.

  “Come off it, Mr. Liu, you can’t be Taiwanese—you’ve got backbone,” said Aoki.

  “I’m a regular Taiwanese guy.”

  The outcome of the fight was a foregone conclusion. When Mingji came to, he saw several faces crowded around him, all looking worried and at a loss.

  “Feeling better, Mingji?”

  “We’ve been worried stiff about you.”

  He quickly closed his eyes, unable to look at those around him, but he was even more afraid of crying. And he would rather die than let them see him cry.

  “This should be a lesson to us—we don’t want to get into another row with the Japs.”

  “Shut up!” shouted Mingji, summoning his breath. He sank back into unconsciousness. It had been a lesson—one more painful than the blows he had received, and one that would torment him the rest of his life.

  And now most of his companions at the One-Three-Six Works were either dead or wounded—only Nozawa was left. He wondered about the loyalty of men like Squid Wang, Crooked Mouth Li, and Old Man Jiang.

  After the fight, he became more distant. He often reminded himself that his attitude was wrong, but he couldn’t change. If only his friend Zhong Renhe were there—he would be able to help. He also thought of his mother and his home, and Ahua, but he immediately banished those thoughts. They were his only joys, and he was unwilling to take them too lightly. He would save them for when he was alone and could concentrate on them. He hadn’t had any news from Ahua in a long time. A few days earlier a strange letter—more like a riddle—had arrived. Then there were no more.

  The battle for Manila was now imminent, and he might die in a day or two. He had trouble keeping calm, but what was the point of getting worked up?

  Then a surprising bit of news came to Nichols Field: a kamikaze force had arrived.

  The pale moon, which was as round as a bowl, was gently setting behind Negros Island. The blood-red sun was rising from behind Leyte Island, and the red clouds over the sea were tinged gold. Four kamikaze planes touched down quietly at Cebu Base.

  The current situation had forced Onishi Takiji, the commander of the Japanese First Naval Air Fleet, to implement his unprecedented kamikaze strategy. Of the fewer than 450 planes in the Philippines—including both the first and second squadrons—less than 100 could be put in the air at any one time. Through this inhuman plan, determined pilots could fly their planes and crash them into enemy warships, especially aircraft carriers. Such human bombs, it was thought, could never miss their targets. By sacrificing the life of one pilot for each ship, it was hoped, a miraculous victory could be achieved.

  Prior to the enemy landing, all that could be seen from the Cebu lookout posts was a layer of dense smoke over Leyte Island, sixty nautical miles to the east. By nightfall the sky flashed intermittently and was streaked with shafts of light as enemy warships bombarded Cebu. The Labor Corps had ceased working, and the 240 men were ordered to take cover under the trees around the airfield and not to move. The squadron leader joked that it was a way for the laborers to reduce the calories they burned.

  Peng Yonghui, on account of his honesty and his good health, now found himself the leader of a squad. Day or night he was usually together with his buddies from Fanzai Wood—Xie Tianding, Xu Akang, Zhou Shengxiang, and Zhuang Mingsheng. Originally they had been in different squads, but the whole system had broken down and they naturally gravitated together. They had received few orders in recent days, and rations had ceased to be issued. The main task for everyone was finding something to eat.

  Xu Akang had died during one of their foraging trips.

  They had crossed some weedy fields to a coconut grove where there were several thatched huts on stilts. Strangely, the coconut trees had all died, and their huge gray fronds rustled eerily in the wind. The men all slowed their steps before proceeding. One wall and the floor of one hut had collapsed. Not a sound was heard and not a person was seen, but the stench of decay hung over the place.

  “Help! Help!”

  Xu Akang came running out of one of the huts.

  “What’s the matter? Calm down.”

  Yonghui rushed forward and spread his arms to stop Akang, who nearly knocked him down.

  “Ghosts! There are ghosts in there!”

  Indeed there were. Three skeletons were found inside the hut. The bones, from which all flesh had been stripped, gleamed white. There were still several ravenous maggots squirming around amid the bones. The men suddenly lost all thoughts of food.

  Xu Akang was sitting on the ground looking at his left foot. In the middle of the arch of his foot were two small puncture wounds, still oozing dark blood. There was also some swelling.

  “A snake bit me! See, it was a poisonous snake!”

  Xu Akang’s face had gone white from fear. Yonghui knew a little about herbs and how to treat snake bites, but what could he do there? Xie Tianding suggested that they carry Akang back to the base. Yonghui opposed the idea because moving Akang would only make the poison spread more quickly. Besides, there was no antidote at the base.

  The sun had just moved past its zenith; the whole morning had slipped by without their being aware of it. Their drinking water was gone. Everybody was at a loss as to what to do.

  “I feel dizzy,” complained Akang.

  Everyone tensed. Despondently they sat down, heads hung low. They didn’t know how to treat a snake bite and could only sit around Akang in silence. Blood continued to ooze from the wound, which never formed a scab. The swelling had not increased, but Akang kept complaining about the pain. After a while, Yonghui thought of a way of dealing with the situation. He took off his puttees and tore them in strips to use as a tourniquet.

  “How do you feel, Akang?”

  “Very tired, and dizzy. I can’t think straight.”

  “Is there anything you want?”

  “I want to go back. I want to sleep.”

  “I’ll carry you back,” said Yonghui loudly. He seemed to have forgotten that he just stopped the others from moving Akang. He stooped down and put Akang over his shoulders. Yonghui couldn’t see very clearly in front of him and he swayed about.

  Akang began to struggle. “Put me down,” he said.

  The others helped Yonghui put him back on the ground. Akang’s hands and feet trembled and his cheeks twitched. He remained fully conscious.

  “How do you feel now?”

  “I feel fine. I just want to lie down.”

  They were all thinking the same thing. They had been surrounded by death for the last six months, but they had never seen anyone die from a snake bite. Death was a strange event, and regardless of how it came, it was always recognizable.

  “Akang, don’t you want to go home to Fanzai Wood?”

  “Yes, Fanzai Wood is a nice place. Where is Ashu?” Ashu was Akang’s wife.

  “Akang, don’t think too much.” A smile seemed to flicker over Yonghui’s lips.

  Akang smiled, but his smile froze and his brows contracted. His white lips twitched.

  “Akang, don’t be afraid.”

  Yonghui stroked Akang’s cheeks with his left hand; Akang’s hand, which he was clasping in his right, soon turned cold.

  Yonghui snipped some of Akang’s hair and some of his toenails and fingernails. Together the men dug a deep hole and buried Akang. Only then did Yonghui burst into tears. The others also cried without restraint. They all stood there turned away from one another, crying their own tears.

  They returned to base as darkness was falling. That night, after a meal of palm hearts, they crowded together under a coconut tree, but no one slept. Exploding shells flashed at intervals to the north and east. Not long after midnight, they heard something scream overhead, exploding with great force at the end of the runway. More and more shells fell as daylight approached. The ground never stopped shaking. Several direct hits put craters five feet or more in depth in the second runway. The buildings near the control tower had also been hit and were burning, sending up billows of black smoke. The men all got up and blindly searched for shelter.

  Suddenly the public address system came on and all the workers were ordered to gather by the second runway.

  They were there within three minutes. Unexpectedly, they were not given orders to fight but to fill in the craters as quickly as possible. Shells from the enemy ships were raining down from the sky, and as soon as one crater was filled, another, even bigger and deeper, appeared.

  Four Zero fighters were then pushed from the parking apron onto the runway.

  “How can they push out the planes when the shelling has scarcely stopped?”

  Three officers approached the runway at a trot. A long, narrow table had already been set up, on which had been placed a white cloth that trailed to the ground. Then came three soldiers carrying white vases of flowers, followed by another man with a sake jar. An open truck carrying four men approached from headquarters. All of them were wearing white headbands on which was a red sun insignia. They were dressed in snow-white kimonos. The man who led the group wore a long sword at his side. The workers watched as they approached.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I’ve heard that that’s how the Japanese dress when they are going to commit hara-kiri.”

  “Are they going to kill themselves?”

  The three officers and the four men stood facing one another. Colonel Imoto, the commander of the base, stood in the middle with Captain Tsuruyama and Warrant Officer Sakai on either side of him. Colonel Imoto looked pale in the light of the sun. His mouth was tightly shut and he was extraordinarily solemn. Yonghui and his friends couldn’t see the faces of the four men because they faced away from them. But they stood there rigidly, as if they couldn’t move.

  “Gentlemen, today we decide the fate of our nation! The fate of millions of people. I earnestly pray that you will succeed and that your sacrifice will save our country.” Colonel Imoto paused, and after a long silence continued, “Gentlemen, the spirit of our country … you will find eternal peace when you attack.”

  There was another moment of silence. The officer standing to the left of the colonel picked up the sake jar and poured five cups. The colonel stepped forward, took up one cup, and raised it to the white-clad pilot on the left.

  “Captain Seki, would you be so kind.”

  “I’m off, then.”

  The colonel then drank with each of the other pilots in turn, as did the other officers. They all stood facing one another for some time, then they all turned to the north and bowed deeply—no doubt to their country and kinsmen. Then a song was heard softly on the wind. It was that well-known popular song, “Cherry Blossoms.” It was a sad song and a favorite among the pilots:

  We are cherry blossoms of the same season,

  Together we flower in the air force garden;

  The southern sky was aglow with fire from the sun,

  You shall never see a plane return.

  After a few minutes they climbed into their planes. The ground crew pushed the planes onto the runway. The engines were started at the same time, and within a matter of minutes they had all climbed into the sky. At the same time, five other, similar planes appeared from the north, circled around and took up defensive positions behind the four fighters, and then disappeared into the smoke and fire to the east.

  “They are going to their deaths.”

  “Yes, to their deaths,” said Yonghui. It was half past seven on the morning of October 25.

  At ten forty-five, Captain Seki led his kamikaze force in an attack on the U. S. carrier fleet. One aircraft carrier was sunk, another badly damaged; and one cruiser was sent to the bottom.

  In mid-November, Colonel Imoto gave orders that both runways were to be destroyed, all buildings burned to the ground, and all aircraft fuel and oil dumped at the south end of the runway where it would be set afire when the enemy attacked. That day, the forty remaining members of the Labor Corps, along with fifty natives, were ordered to fall in in front of headquarters, of which nothing remained but a heap of ashes. They were to receive orders from the notoriously ruthless Captain Tsuruyama.

  “The natives of the island will remain here. The members of the Labor Corps can decide if they wish to accompany the Imperial Army or remain on the island. You must decide right now. Those who wish to accompany the army should meet here within thirty minutes.”

  Evacuating Cebu! Had they ever dared dream such a thing?

  The captain continued, “Cebu is now entirely surrounded. The only way off the island is to break through the enemy blockade. Without the protection of the Imperial Army, your lives will be in danger!”

  What were they to do? The members of the Labor Corps looked at one another. Yonghui and his friends decided to discuss the matter. Some were indecisive and others were not in any condition to move.

  The natives for their part gave a whoop and disappeared. The Taiwanese continued to argue the point but could come to no immediate decision.

  Yonghui heard the words, “Let’s go back to Taiwan; let’s go back to Fanzai Wood.” Like words in a dream, they echoed in his ears. He shook himself and broke into a cold sweat. He hadn’t dared to think about going home in a long time. But there he was, thinking about it.

  Arguing about what to do was fine, but they had to make up their minds quickly. After thirty minutes had elapsed, the Japanese soldiers marched off, followed by those Taiwanese who had already made up their minds. With seemingly no other choice, those who had not decided began to follow. They felt that to remain was hopeless and that their best chance for survival was with the majority. Yonghui, Zhou, and Xie brought up the rear.

  As they walked along, a Taiwanese nicknamed “Foul Mouth” spoke. “Hey, Peng. Are you really going with them?”

  “I don’t know.” Yonghui smiled.

  “Fuck it! I think we ought to take off.”

  Five or six others stopped and came back to listen to what was being said.

  “Yonghui,” said Zhou, breathing sharply, “forget about us wounded, and get away while you can.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” said Yonghui seriously. “I didn’t really want to follow them and end up as cannon fodder. It’s just that everyone else went with them. I wasn’t thinking clearly and was just following along. If we are going to survive, we’ll have to do it on our own.”

  As they spoke, the sky to the northeast darkened. The noise of airplane engines increased above them. In the past they had always heard the drone of approaching aircraft, but this time, the sound seemed to fall suddenly from the sky above them.

  “B-24s, B-24s!”

  Bombs began to fall, shaking the base. The sounds of machine-gun fire, exploding bombs, and shouting were heard from the direction of the departing troops. Even if they had wanted to, Yonghui and the others could not catch up with them. They took cover amid the many low-growing palms in the area. Finding themselves safe, they gathered palm hearts and ate. The hearts of the palms, which had been a lifesaver for the men, were tender and sweet.