About two o'clock in the afternoon, I reached the
high coral shore, to steep for landing and began to circle the island. Half
way around, I paused to survey the shoreline. Then I saw some palm leaves
move in one spot. Maybe friendly natives? I waved eagerly, in my most friendly
manner, but there was no response except further isolated movements, which
told me I was not alone. It was then I remembered my pistol, still hanging
in the Ready Shack. Never had I gone off without it before. It is perhaps
factitious to say that I will not leave it again.
For a moment I debated between landing on that
questionable shore which I had worked so hard to reach and simply floating
it out - until - desperation made the decision and I brought my inflated
craft to the beach. The sharp coral cutting my bare feet was only an incidental
annoyance. And even in my poor mental state, I made note of fresh rainwater
in holes in the coral and of a little pool behind a large rock where fish
the size of my hand could be taken.
Opening the canvas bag which was a part of my life
raft equipment, I took out a flare gun, a signal mirror and a roll of mosquito
netting, the latter without any particular purpose in mind.
My only weapon was a pocket knife with a three-inch
blade - and you may smile when I say it was a great comfort to me at that
moment.
I started down the beach intending to search for some
shelter where I could be as safe as possible. Soon I found fresh marks in
the sand and coconut husks, which had been cut open with a large knife, then
a life jacket bearing Japanese characters. Disregarding my lacerated feet,
I began to move faster toward some distant rocks. At once I heard running
in the trees, I stopped and the running stopped. I heard a poor imitation
of a wild boar's grunt and was not fooled. The "boar" was upwind and suddenly
I got the unmistakable smell of the Jap, encountered often before. Why didn't
they shoot? No further identification needed, I made a dash for it down the
open beach, and must have gained distance on them by the time I rounded a
band in the shore line and came upon my haven.
- a little cavern hollowed out under a large rock
by the pounding surf. There was enough room to crawl inside for about ten
feet and sit upright. And although the surf filled it to the top at slow
intervals it seemed my best bet. Here I would make my stand, if any. Perhaps,
after all the Japs were not armed or I had eluded them. Almost to weary to
care, I sat on top my rock cover watching the jungle for enemies and the
sky for friends, thinking in my first moment of relaxation of the thousand
and one things which flood the mind of a man who has said, "So this it".
Home folks - never closer, childhood friends, girls, the follows in the Squadron.
Nice thought. There was a gang!
As if in immediate response, two wildcats roared out
of the dusk, circling the island. I was caught almost totally off guard but
got my flare gun going in time for the second plane, and they circled back
and I stood up and waved the mosquito netting frantically. Later I discovered
they were old "Crud" and "Jughead" coming out on their own after a hard days
flying, refusing to give me up. It might have been any two of us. That's
the way of our Squadron.
They couldn't land of course. They could only spot
me for a rescue plane to follow by daylight. "Crud" flew down and waved and
turned back toward our base. Regardless of the night ahead of me, I was proud
and happy in that moment.
Now I could concentrate on the jungle. Disturbances
broke out among the leaves again and I could now see moving figures. I decided
I had to take some action. Using the last of my flares I lofted a shot over
behind them and silhouetted them plainly enough. One wore shorts, with wide
belt and open short-sleeved shirt, besides his Japanese cap. They looked
something like a beached bomber crew. The shot seemed to decide them for
action. Probably thought I was better armed. At any rate they dropped the
camouflage and moved forward out of the darkness closing in.
My next maneuver was undebated. I dived into my selected
retreat and began to pile up some loose rocks into a low wall at the entrance,
leaving enough opening for the exit I hoped to make in the morning. Then
began the night without reason and without end - for all its blackness a
night burned fiercely into my memory.
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