BUKA, SOLOMON ISLANDS
0605 HOURS 7 SEPTEMBER 1942
Sergeant Steven M. Koffler, USMC, woke suddenly and sat up, frightened. His guts were knotted and he had a clammy sweat.
It was from a nightmare, he concluded after a moment, although he couldn't remember any of it.
The feeling of foreboding did not go away. Something was wrong. There was enough light in the hut for him to see that Patience was gone. That was not unusual. Since she had moved in with him, she habitually rose before he did and was out of the hut before he woke.
But then, slowly, it came to him, what was wrong. He heard no noise. There was always noise, the squealing of pigs, the crying of children, the crackling of a fire, even hymn singing.
That image sent his mind wandering: They don't sing hymns here, like in church. It has nothing to do with God. It's just that "Rock of Ages" and "Faith of Our Fathers" and "God Save the King" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" and the other ones are the only music these people have ever heard. He corrected himself. Plus the Marine Hymn, which of course me and Lieutenant Howard taught them.
Why can't I hear anything?
He felt another wave of fear and reached for the Thompson.
He checked the action and then stuck his feet in his boondockers and stood up.
He went to the door of the hut and looked out. No one was in sight.
Where the fuck is everybody?
With his finger on the Thompson's trigger, he left the hut, took one quick look to confirm that no one was visible, then ran into the jungle behind the hut. He moved ten feet inside it, enough for concealment, and then he moved laterally until he found a position where he could observe the other huts.
There was no one there. The fires had gone out.
Even the fucking pigs are gone!
The sonsofbitches ran off on me!
Well, what the hell do you expect? he asked himself. If I wasn't here, they're just a bunch of fucking cannibals; the Japs don't give a shit about cannibals unless they're causing trouble. The worst thing the Japs would do would be to put them to work.
With me here, they're the fucking enemy. The Japs would kill them, slowly, to show they're pissed off. And they'll do it so it hurts, to teach the other cannibals it's not smart to help the While Man. Like cutting off their arms and legs, not just their heads, and leaving the parts laying around.
A chill replaced the clammy sweat.
What the fuck am I going to do now?
He was suddenly, without warning, sick to his stomach.
When that passed, he had an equally irresistible urge to move his bowels.
He moved another fifteen yards through the jungle and watched the camp for another five minutes. Finally he walked out of the jungle and started looking in the huts.
The radio was still there.
Why not? What the hell would they do with the radio?
And he found some baked sweet potatoes, or whatever the hell they were, and some of the smoked pig.
A farewell present? Merry Christmas, Sergeant Koffler? How the fuck long are those sweet potatoes and five, ten pounds of smoked pig going to last me?
Oh, shit!
There came the sound of aircraft engines, a dull roar far off.
Fuck `em! What the fuck do I care if the whole Japanese Air Corps is headed for Guadalcanal?
He walked to the tree house. They'd left him the knotted rope, he found to his surprise. He used it to walk up the trunk.
Good morning, Steven," Patience Witherspoon said. She was sitting on the floor of the platform, wearing an expression that said she expected to be kicked.
Ian Bruce was leaning against the trunk.
"You heard the engines, Sergeant Koffler?"
"Fuck the engines, where the hell is everybody?"
"The men went to seek Lieutenant Reeves," Ian said. "The women have gone away from here."
"Gone where?"
"You would not know where they have gone," Ian said with irrefutable logic. "Away.
`Why?"
"If it has not gone well with Lieutenant Reeves, the Japanese will come looking for us. If they find this place, with the radio, they may believe there were no other white men. You will come with us to where the women are making a camp. We may be able to hide you."
"You think something fucked up, went wrong, don't you?"
"I think something has fucked up. Otherwise Lieutenant Reeves would have returned when he said he would return."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Because I knew you would forbid it," Ian Bruce said.
"Lieutenant Reeves left you in charge; he told me I was to take your orders as if they had come from him."
"What are you doing up here, then?" Steve asked.
"Watching for the Japanese aircraft," Ian said. "We will need the binoculars."
"They're in my hut," Steve replied automatically.
"I will get them," Patience said, and quickly got to her feet and started down the knotted rope.