Published by
www.asstr.org on 5/27/2013 updated 9/6/2014
Copyright ©2013 by Fabula Salaxacis
Cover Art: Fabula
All rights reserved. The text of this publication, or any part thereof, may not be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts. If you are offended by such, or are not an adult, do not read any further.
This is work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is coincidental.
There were two sets of rules we had to follow to survive at Santo Tomas; the ones we made, and the ones Rat Bastard made. Our rules were made up by the internee committees, the members drawn from the 3000 civilian men, women and children from Allied countries imprisoned when the Japanese invaded the Philippines. The rules were a reasonable approach to managing our internment, as the Japanese gave little to sustain us in the beginning, and nothing in the end.
There were rules like keep a positive attitude, do your assigned tasks, share the food, don’t steal or envy another’s possessions, live by your morals, and never willingly give comfort to the enemy. They were carefully written on half sheets of paper, and posted so everyone could read and remember them. By the Autumn of 1944, after almost three years of internment, the rules still hung on the walls around the camp, but everyone knew that his rules were the only ones that mattered.
One of his rules was to show respect by bowing whenever he appeared. The bow had to be low and sustained until he was well past. We generally saw him every morning during roll call as he strutted down the wide hall of the Education building where the women and children were housed. His chin up, his face impassive, he rarely looked at us directly as he lead a small contingent of soldiers who checked off our names. Our room monitor was Mrs. Blackwell, a pleasant British woman of thirty who liked to make us line up shortest to tallest, which amused some of the guards, but not him.
She was first in line, being the tallest, and I, being twelve–years–old was toward the end of the line with half a dozen younger kids. Everyone bowed in sequence as his boots clumped in front of us on the hardwood floor. I always stared at the black, shinny leather as I was bending over, since there was little else in view, and I wondered who polished them every day. His boots clumped past me, clumped two more times, then stopped. I turned to see the youngest, Billy, still standing straight up. He had been awake much of the night crying from hunger, something a lot of the younger kids did. I whispered for him to bow, but he kept one finger in his mouth, and ignored my urging, and that of the other girl next to him. I rose up a little so I could see Rat Bastard. His face grew stiff, his eyes slanted upward, and his lips pressed against his teeth. We all knew the look. Every one of the several hundred internees lined up in the hall gasped, and fell silent. I held my breath and waited to see what terrible thing was going to happen to six–year–old Billy at his hands. There was a reason the internees called him Rat Bastard.
He shouted something in Japanese, and two soldiers grabbed Mrs. Blackwell and dragged her into our room. My mother said, “Turn away, Tanya,” and I did, at first. Then I couldn’t help but look through the open door. The soldiers looked unsure what to do with her once she was standing amidst the many cots crowded in there, but the one we called Mamoto followed them in and slapped her hard across the face. He had rough features and was missing one tooth in front, which made him look like the mean person we all knew him to be.
They made her undress until she stood naked before them. Her breasts were still full, and she had a good figure, although she had grown very thin. I remember thinking you don’t realize how thin someone is until you see them naked. They pushed her to her knees and she began undoing Mamoto’s pants until his penis flopped out. It was the first hard one I had seen, and it seemed bizarre and frightening at the same time. She rubbed it with her hands until the two soldiers began pointing and slapping at her until she put it in her mouth. I thought about food all the time, we all did, and I was incredulous when she took it all the way into her mouth and looked like she was going eat it. After it appeared and disappeared several times, it became clear it was not a meal.
Mamoto never touched her, but stood straight with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, thrusting angrily at her face while he made little grunts. She mostly kept her lips tight around his penis except when he rammed it in so far she choked, and her mouth opened and saliva dribbled down her chin and onto the floor. When she tried to keep herself from being pushed over by grabbing his pants, the lieutenant yelled, and the two soldiers slapped her hands away and, thereafter, they held each of her arms so that she stayed on him. The sounds of her slurping and choking increased as he pushed at her until his face turned red, his hands clenched, and he yelled ‘Bonzai,’ The soldiers both laughed at that. Slowly, he relaxed, and his penis slid out of her mouth, and they let go of her arms. When she slumped, dropping her hands to her naked thighs, he reached for her chin with his finger, and pulled it up. She held her mouth like she had something inside, and he said, “Nomikomu.” Mrs. Blackwell appeared to swallow, and he patted her on the head.
Men and women being beaten by the guards was a frequent occurrence, but this was a first for me, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I knew because it was forced that it was terrible, but because it involved a penis, it was fascinating. I’ll never forget the way the morning sun streaming through the windows made her tears, and his wet penis, glisten.
Rat Bastard’s underlings finished the roll call and he strutted back to our door, causing everyone, including Billy, to bow again. Mamoto and his soldiers had come out of the room and fallen in behind him when I rose up. The commandant turned back, and took a long look at me. He singled me out for some reason, even though I was sure my bow was correct. The previous anger was gone from his face, leaving something there I couldn’t decipher. My mother said it was cruelty, but I saw something different.
The women helped our monitor dress, and she quickly composed herself and managed a smile. She was always inordinately cheerful, which she attributed to letters she received from her husband in the early days when we still got mail. He was in Britain working for the Ministry of Information, and he would send her sayings and phrases they had created to keep moral up back home. She repeated them whenever something bad happened, and we all knew them by heart.
She immediately called a meeting for the thirty or so of us who lived in our room. We all agreed that, henceforth, all children would be placed between two adults, and we would all hold hands so that if someone forgot, they could be jerked into a bow by those next to them.
After that, none of the women would talk about what happened that morning, but a few days later I got up the courage to ask Mrs. Blackwell about the experience. I wanted to know everything. Why did the officer want to put his penis in her mouth, and did it taste like food or did it hurt? And what happened at the end when he yelled and touched her chin. She wouldn’t answer my questions, just smiled politely and said, “You’re too young to worry about that.”
“But what if it happens to me?” I said, desperate for answers. “What do I do?”
Again, she smiled, and then repeated one of her phrases, “Just keep calm, Dear, and carry on.”
As a way of deferring any more of my questions, she encouraged me and several children nearby to gather and play the ‘Food Game.’ It was another of Mrs. Blackwell’s tactics for preventing us from feeling down about our plight. Each of us was directed to describe our favorite food, how we would prepare it, where we would eat it, how it tasted, and how it made us feel after our stomach was full of it. I had spent many hours at the game, and it always used to make me feel better. Lately, though, the knowledge that we would never get to eat what we described made me feel worse, rather than better.
The men were housed in the gymnasium, but it was smaller, and because there were twice as many men as women, more crowded than our quarters. They began building small structures or lean–tos all around the university buildings out of whatever material they could scrounge. Soon, anywhere near a building was crowded with shanties roofed with napia or tin, just big enough for a bed of some kind and a makeshift table and chair, and usually a curtain of some sort for privacy. It gave them more privacy than we had in our doorless rooms crowded with women and children.
The shanties naturally became little districts inhabited and named by men from the same country. The men from France lived in the French Quarter, Aussies in the Outback, the Brits in Whitechapple, and the Americans in New York.
I loved to wander the narrow alleys that wound through the camp and see what the men were doing. When we were first interned they were a fun lot, and would organize baseball or soccer games, and the whole camp would come and watch. As the food grew scarce, they grew thin, grim and sedentary. Most of them were friendly to kids, though, and some made a point of knowing our names. I would wave as I strolled by in my bare feet, having grown out of my shoes long ago, and stop and talk with them if they were doing something interesting. I used to be able to count on the occasional gift of a piece of sweet bukayo smuggled in by their Filipino friends, but as the war progressed, I was lucky to get a smile.
The Japanese were insistent that even married men and women sleep separately. Assigned tasks kept most people busy during the day, so meals were the time when most families spent time together, and when they could socialize with others. There used to be dances until a few fights broke out about who was dancing with who, then Rat Bastard confiscated the record players and made a rule against dances. Rumors were the principle topic of discussion as you waited in line with your meal ticket in hand until it was punched and you received your food, and could sit with your family.
Most of the rumors had to do with how the war was progressing, and when we would be rescued by MacArthur. Rat Bastard would lie to us about who was winning, but he was often refuted by the men using information gleaned from a radio. This infuriated him so he made a rule against radios and confiscated them all. The men would always find another one, though, and hide it until the guards came through destroying the shanties looking for it. An alley I walked down one day could look completely different the next if the guards had been through tearing it apart to find the radio. Only a few men knew where the radio was because they didn’t trust the information wouldn’t be traded to the Japanese for food. We always thought of those men as heroes for keeping us informed about the outside world, and we loved knowing we had something over on our captors. The information often buoyed our hopes for rescue, but just as often dashed them.
Diedre Rothman, or Ditzy, never sat alone at meals. She didn’t know what happened to her father, and her mother had died two years prior, shortly after internment, but there was always a man who wanted to sit with her. At seventeen, she was easily the most attractive girl in camp; petite, a child’s nose, and a terrific figure. Her glossy black hair fell naturally around her shoulders and made me wonder if my tan locks would ever look as good. She didn’t seem to be as thin as the others, as evidenced by her full breasts. I often wondered why she wasn’t as thin as Mrs. Blackwell.
Ditzy didn’t like the younger kids, myself included, so we watched her, but had little opportunity to talk to her. She knew all the men, though, and she was the cause of several of the fights that ended the dances. This made her universally disliked by the women, but not all of the men were so condemning.
The kids were usually the first in line for meals, and she happened to be a couple of people behind me when I received my bowl of rice soaked in coconut milk, a paste called lugao. I sat down under a nearby tree and overheard a man and Nurse Baker from the Morality Committee confront her. “You know the rules,” the woman said with a mean satisfaction. “If your out after curfew, no meal.” Ditzy stomped away from the line and stood under the tree next to me. She pulled a soggy cigarette out of her bra, made a show of lighting it with a brass lighter, and exhaled a large puff of smoke toward the woman, and gave her a look.
“Where do you go?” I asked, as I placed a handful of rice in my mouth with my fingers.
Her look was full of disdain as she said, “Where ever there is something worth trading.”
“What do you trade?” I asked.
“Aren’t you the nosy one?” Ditzy exhaled more smoke and looked back at Nurse Baker. Then she stuck her tongue out at her, and continued, “Bunch of hypocrites. A lot of the women go out at night to be with their husbands. Mrs. Tolson did’t get pregnant by herself, you know.”
“But you’re not married,” I said.
Ditzy’s eyes narrowed, then she said, “Your Mrs. Blackwell has a husband in England, and I’ve even seen her out for a visit with a man. Besides, all that morality crap they’re always preaching doesn’t matter any more.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because, Kiddo,” Ditzy pointed her finger at me like a gun, “we’re all going to die.”
“No we’re not,” I said, having heard my mother’s reassuring words many times. “MacArthur’s going to rescue us.”
“That’s just what they tell you kids. There is no Santa Clause, and MacArthur isn’t coming. And if he does, the Japs are going to shoot us the minute he gets near. So you might as well enjoy what little you can.”
This was the first time anyone had voiced a fear I had in the back of my mind, and the fear I saw on the face of all the adults when they spoke of the war, despite their reassurances to children. The Japanese had rules, but they were inconsistent and could change for no discernible reason, and they could be unmercifully cruel, if the mood struck them. It made me uncomfortable to think Ditzy might be right. I was distracted by a small weevil I had uncovered in my rice bowl, and I grabbed it before it could get away and put it into my mouth.
Ditzy looked at me with revulsion, “How can you eat those bugs?”
A lot of the women wouldn’t eat the bugs that regularly turned up in the food, but all of the kids did. “They’re not so bad,” I said.
Ditzy blew the last of the smoke from her lungs, “It’s disgusting.”
“Ditzy, what do you do you do when you go out at night?”
“I do what you do,” she said with a smirk. “I’ve seen you walking around the shanties, staring at the men. You’re not so different from me, or at least you won’t be for long. I’m sure some of those guys would love to get at you, too, but make sure they give you something worthwhile in exchange.”
“I don’t understand.”
”You do something for them, they give you something in return.” She waved the tarnished brass object in my face. “Like a lighter and a couple of cigarettes.”
I felt really stupid at that point, and asked, “What do you do for them.”
“You want me to draw you picture?”
I actually thought a picture would have been very helpful, but I could tell she wasn’t going to draw anything, so I just finished cleaning my bowl with my fingers.
Our talk stayed with me, though, and I found myself very curious about Ditzy’s activities, but with little hope of finding out more. A few days later, I was awakened in the night by Billy’s crying and, unable to return to sleep, got up to go to the bathroom. As I was returning to my room I saw Ditzy tiptoeing down the hall toward one of the side doors. On an impulse, I followed.
We were warned about being out after curfew, and told if the guards thought we were trying to escape, we would be shot. But how could the women meet their husbands at night if that were true? There were very few lights in camp at night so it was easy enough to follow her unseen until she made her way out of the Education building, past the Infirmary, the fruit trees, and to the far end of the vegetable garden.
There was a man waiting for her and she started talking with him. The man’s French accent was familiar to me, but they didn’t talk for long. I was able to get close enough to see clearly by hiding behind a thin tree. Ditzy got down on her knees in front of him, and did just what Mrs. Blackwell was forced to do to Mamoto. He was holding Ditzy’s head and pushing his penis in and out of her mouth. Ditzy looked like it really was a meal she was enjoying. After a long time of him grunting in his native tongue, he groaned loudly and said, “Oui, bay–bee, suck eet.” It reminded me of Mamoto yelling ‘Bonzai,’ only no one laughed afterward. Then Ditzy stood up, he gave her something which she quickly ate, and they separated.
As she walked back toward me, I tried to stay silent and hidden behind the tree. When she got near me on the path, she stopped, looked in my direction, and said, “Like what you saw, Kiddo?” When I didn’t say anything, she said, “I know you’re in there. You may as well come out.”
Feeling sheepish, I stood and joined her on the path. “What did it taste like?” I asked.
“His cock, or the chocolate he gave me after?”
“I know what chocolate tastes like.”
“Cocks aren’t as sweet, but I like ’em.” Then she laughed and said, “And like some chocolates, they’re filled with cream.”
“They are?”
Still laughing, she said, “You’d better believe it, Kiddo. Some guys have a lot of it, too. A real mouthful. Not a very sweet cream, though. I think it’s the lousy food.”
I was having a hard time assimilating what I was learning from Ditzy. Why was it called a cock? Why did she put it in her mouth willingly? Why hadn’t anybody told me men had cream you could eat? I knew that Mrs. Tolson had milk in her breasts, and it kept her baby from being hungry, but I had no idea men had something similar.
“You ready to try it?” she asked.
I was thinking about the last time I had a piece of chocolate with cream inside and how good it tasted, but I shook my head. “That’s what they pee out of. I don’t think I could put it in my mouth.”
“You eat bugs, remember?” she said. “And I am sure cocks taste better than bugs.”
I saw evidence of other clandestine meetings as we walked back. There was a guard walking patrol in a lackadaisical manner and he ignored anyone he happened to encounter. I realized they only looked alert when they thought Mamoto or Rat Bastard might see them. A slouch, or failure to make a prisoner bow would be severely punished. After we arrived I laid awake in my cot for a long while thinking about what I had learned, and what I still wanted to know.
***
Mamoto had become enamored of Mrs. Blackwell, as though he had a crush on her. Every few days he would use some pretense to inspect our room, find it was too messy, or the meal tickets were out of order, and punish her. It was always the same. She would clear us all out, take off her dress, fold it and place it on the floor at his feet, get down on her knees, and take his cock into her mouth. In the beginning she was unsure and her movements were clumsy, but they grew practiced and efficient until she could balance on her knees, and lunge on and off of his penis without touching him with her hands. Her smooth, slow swallowing made her look like one of those mechanical drinking birds that I had seen in a store in Manila. He always yelled ‘Bonzai,’ made her swallow, and patted her head at the end.
When he left, the women would always help put her back together and offer supportive remarks, parroting her pet sayings back to her. “Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory,” they would say. “Quite right,” she replied. “Quite right.”
I often tried to help by brushing her hair, or bringing her knitting, and would linger after the other women left. Her ever–present smile was inspirational to all of us, and I liked her company more than just about anyone. I must have looked particularly troubled as I sat close to her on the steps of our building, my night with Ditzy was still on my mind, when she looked over her knitting and said, “What is it now, Tanya?
“Nothing,” I said. I knew she didn’t appreciate my ‘impolite’ questions, and I was full of nothing else that morning.
“You’re a good girl, Tanya,” she said in an affectionate way, “but a bit too curious for one your age.”
I found myself leaning into her until she had to drop her knitting into her lap, and gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, all right. You can ask one question, but just one.”
I straightened up, wondering if she really meant it.
“Go on,” she said, resuming her knitting. “Let’s get it over with.”
I scooted closer and whispered, “Is Mamoto’s… thing… filled with cream?”
The clacking needles stopped, her face froze for an instant, then she burst into laughter. It was a bubbling, musical laugh that filled my ears. There wasn’t a lot of laughter in camp, especially among the adults, and the noise she made drew a lot of attention our way. She gradually composed herself, looked very amused for a long while, then said, “Thank you, Tanya. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”
I wasn’t sure if that meant she was going to answer my question or not. When the eyes of the others had drifted away, she said, “No, Tanya, it is not filled with cream. What comes out is what makes babies, and it is white, but definitely not.” she stifled another laugh, “cream.”
“It makes babies?” I asked, even more surprised by this revelation.
“Well, not if it goes in your mouth,” she said.
“Where, then?”
“Really, Tanya, you should ask your mother these questions.”
“She thinks I’m too young, and she never feels well. I don’t want to upset her.”
“The fever just won’t let go of her, will it?” I agreed, then she asked, “Have you got the curse, yet? The ignorance must have shown on my face, because she asked, “Have you started to bleed from between your legs?” When I shook my head in horror, she said, “Then your mother’s right, you are too young. After you start to bleed, come to me and I’ll answer more of your questions.”
“Why am I going to bleed?”
“All women do, as regular as the moon. Nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine.”
Still coping with the surprise of this latest information, I returned to my original concern. “Is it awful putting his thing in your mouth?”
A seriousness returned to her face, which made me sorry I took away her laughter. “What’s awful is he is a mean little man who knows I loath him, and he won’t leave me alone.”
We were interrupted by a man who approached, and we both fell silent. It was understood that whatever the guards did to the women was not to be discussed with the men. The few times husbands had heard about mistreatment before resulted in angry outbursts, and then severe punishment for the man. Not telling them was our way of protecting them.
I knew the man as Oscar, a Seventh Day Adventist missionary who taught school when we still had school. He always wore a satchel around his neck in which he carried an enormous Bible. He was known for pulling it out and reading to the severely ill in the Infirmary, or to anyone he thought might be interested. Mrs. Blackwell looked very glad to see him, so I went on my way.
***
Ditzy came to sit beside me one morning at breakfast and offered an unfamiliar, but cheerful greeting. “Hey, Kiddo. Whatchya doing?”
I was immediately suspicious of her attention, but also curious. “Eating bugs,” I said.
“Say, you’re a real Jack Benny,” she replied. “How would you like to eat something besides bugs?” She hunched close to me and whispered, “Something from a fruit tree.”
No one in camp would say no to that offer. “Yes,” I replied.
“Meet me tonight at the vegetable garden just after curfew, and I’ll show you how.”
The soldier’s billet and bodega was near the garden, and internees had been caught stealing food from there before. It was questionable whose punishment would be worse; the Morality Committee’s or Rat Bastard’s. “I don’t want to get caught stealing,” I said.
“We’re not going to steal anything,” Ditzy responded. “Somebody wants to meet you.”
“Who?”
“Meet me tonight, and you’ll find out.” With that, she left me pondering what to do. As the day progressed into night, with my hunger always gnawing, I resolved to find out what Ditzy had in mind. When it was dark and quiet, I carefully made my way out of the building and located her near the garden. She put her arm around me, and we walked farther down the path toward the bodega, her talking as though she was my best friend. I started when we came upon a guard near the fence topped with barb wire, but Ditzy said, “Don’t worry, he’s one of the good Japs.”
She meant not all of the guards were like Mamoto. Most of them were young and serving their first military duty at the camp before they were shipped off to fight. They were never around for more than a few months until they were replaced by other new recruits. Some of them liked the kids, and it wasn’t unusual to see a guard holding one end of a jump rope for the younger kids. I recognized him as one who was playful, as long as Mamoto or Rat Bastard weren’t around, and who smiled at me when ever he saw me.
Ditzy said, “Yuto, I’d like you to meet Tanya. Tanya, Yuto.”
I immediately bowed deeply, but Ditzy didn’t. In very broken English he said, “Vely glad meet you.” I had no idea how to proceed, or what was expected, so I looked to Ditzy. She looked to Yuto and, as much with her hands as her words, said, “Show us what you brought.”
He looked around, as though to make sure no one else was there, leaned his rifle against the fence, then pulled two, small papayas out of his jacket. Ditzy looked at me, and asked, “You want one of those?”
I nodded with certainty.
“Okay, Kiddo. All you have to do is suck the cream out of his cock.”
I had decided after our last conversation that bugs had to taste better than cocks, and I had resolved to never put a man’s cock in my mouth. However, seeing the fruit in his hand, lit only by the light from the distant billet window, but able to smell the ripe fragrance, shredded my resolve. I nodded again.
Ditzy instructed me fully. I clumsily unbuttoned his pants and reached inside, shivering as I felt a warm, floppy appendage through the cotton fundoshi the soldiers all wore. I had to reach around the two layers of cloth to pull it out as Ditzy struck the brass lighter and told me to look carefully for spots, and to never put it in my mouth if I found any because I would get a disease worse than my mother’s dengue fever.
Yuto’s cock was white and slender, free of spots, with a fold of skin at the end. She instructed me to pull back the skin to reveal the cap, and showed me how to stroke it. I was very surprised to find it growing stiff in my hands. Remembering Mamoto and Mrs. Blackwell, I made sure not to touch the rest of him. Ditzy corrected me on this, saying for normal men, the more I touched them the better. Mamoto wasn’t normal.
Yuto spoke up at that point, and whispered, “No tell Mamoto, No tell Mamoto.”
Ditzy reassured him we wouldn’t tell, then told me to get on my knees in front of him. “Look like this is your favorite thing in the world,” she said. “Every guy wants a girl who thinks his cock is mana from heaven.” I tried to look at him, smile and stroke at the same time, but found it very difficult to do all three at once. It gave me a new appreciation for Mrs. Blackwell’s ability to look effortless.
“Now, lick the end,” she said.
I halted at that point, unsure if I could go on.
“Better than bugs,” Ditzy encouraged.
I took a breath and licked the now very stiff, capped head of his cock. I immediately tasted something unfamiliar, but not bad, so I licked again. She told me to get it good and wet so my hands would slide easier, and the more I licked and stroked, the more I found I was putting it in my mouth. With her encouragement, I took it in deeper and began using my mouth to stroke it more than my hands. I tried to look up frequently at the young soldier and smile, and I always found him looking back at me with wonder in his eyes. Ditzy would strike the lighter occasionally to make sure I was doing it right, and I could see his smooth, youthful features, and his admiration for me. I found this very encouraging, somehow, and continued following Ditzy’s copious instructions; “Get it as far back as you can,” and “Tickle his balls a little,” and “Stick your finger up right behind his balls. Don’t be afraid to push hard.”
Yuto’s eyes began to roll back, and he held my jaw gently in both hands, bent his knees, and grunted something in Japanese. As he did, I felt my mouth begin to fill with liquid. I realized this was the cream, and I tried to focus on the taste as he jerked in and out a few more times. I sloshed it around a little, enjoying the unique taste, then swallowed. I didn’t let go of him until I was sure there was no more coming out, then I found myself smiling.
“How’s the cream?” Ditzy asked.
Now embarrassed, I tried not to smile, and Ditzy said to Yuto, “Okay, pay up, soldier.”
He kept the papayas in his pocket as they argued a for a while until she said, “He wants one more thing.”
I stood up, wiping my mouth and upset at the prospect of not getting the fruit. “What?”
“He wants to kiss you.”
“Why?”
“Because he is in love with you, dummy. Otherwise, I would be the only one getting any fruit tonight.”
After being assured I would get my piece after he kissed me, I agreed. Yuto took off his hat, bowed briefly, stepped forward, and put his hands on my shoulders. I was so stunned by his bow, that I could hardly attend to anything else. As he moved in, I could see his face more clearly, and there was an innocence in his eyes that made me want to hold him like a child. His kiss was so tentative, so tremulous, and so desirous of me, that I closed my eyes and felt as though I might faint. I was barely conscious of his lips on mine because my body was flooded with a strange warmth.
I was startled by his sudden withdrawal, and when I opened my eyes his hat was on his head, his rifle in his hands, and he was walking away.
“Here you go, Kiddo,” Ditzy said, and held out the fruit, which I took immediately and bit into. We both consumed the treasure in less than a minute, having eaten the seeds and skin, as well as the sweet, pulpy fruit.
I found myself in a rare, bright mood as we walked back toward the Education building. “Do you really think he loves me,” I asked, still licking my fingers, and thinking of his curt bow to me.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ditzy said, stopping, and turning me toward her. “Don’t you fall for him. He is just a guy. American, French, Dutch, or Jap, a guy is just a guy, and you take what little good they have and move on. We’re all going to be killed soon enough with a bullet to the head, Kiddo, so feel as good as you can until them. Don’t make yourself miserable over some guy.”
I was stunned to silence by her harsh words. Eventually, I found my own anger and said, “Yuto seems very nice, and MacArthur is going to rescue us. We are not going to get shot in the head.”
Ditzy sighed, giving up on trying to convince me. “On second thought, you don’t have to worry about being shot, Kiddo. You’re going to die of a broken heart before then.”
When I got back to my room, my mother was awake and asked where I had been. I felt bad lying to her, but I knew if I told her, she would worry. As I laid on my cot I could still smell the fruit on my fingers, and I suddenly felt terrible I hadn’t saved any for her. I resolved to do it again, and share whatever I got from now on.
I enlisted Ditzy’s help, and she made the arrangement with Yuto. She said it would be easier this time because he was on gate duty, and the men avoided the gate at night for fear of being shot for trying to escape. As we went out that night, I realized I was looking forward to seeing him, and reminded myself to kiss him back this time.
When we got there, no one was at the gate, and we discovered a complete uniform and equipment had been discarded on the ground, and a rifle leaning against the partially open gate. At Ditzy’s urging, we hurried away. She explained that Yuto had put on civilian clothes and deserted. She had heard of it happening before.
I was silent on the walk back, and my disappointment was strong, both for the loss of the food, and for not seeing the young soldier’s endearing face.
“It’s a good thing,” Ditzy said. “I knew you were going to fall in love with him.” When I didn’t respond, she said, “Oh, buck up, Kiddo. I’ll find you another baby soldier to suck on. Just you wait.”
I felt uneasy wandering the alleys after that. I don’t know if the men looked at me differently after what I had done, or I saw them differently. I found myself wondering if any of them liked me enough to want to kiss me. One morning, it seemed I was receiving a lot of looks from the men, so I strayed to an area I rarely visited, a clot of shanties behind the Education building. It was an area the kids called Tulipville because we couldn’t pronounce the name given to it by the Dutch men who lived there. For reasons unexplained, they had all been sent to another camp and the shanties were now empty and in disarray from having been picked through by the other men for anything of value left behind. As I poked into them to see how the men lived, I felt the sting of rain on my face.
It was always muggy at Santo Tomas and I used to welcome the brief rains that came frequently. I had grown out of the few clothes I came in with, and always wore a hand–me–down print dress that fit reasonably well. It was of a light cotton material that stuck to me when wet and, since I no longer had underwear, showed everything I was about. My association with Ditzy had not gone unnoticed, and that had brought me under the critical gaze of Nurse Baker and the Morality Committee. So when it started to rain, rather than enjoy the cool wet, I ducked into one of the shanties to stay dry.
It was one of a row of back–to–back shanties that ran between the Education building and a much smaller building housing the commandant. The assemblage formed two alleys, one along the Education building cluttered with lean–tos, and the other along the commandant’s building where lean–tos were not allowed.
There were three windows at the back of the smaller building facing me, with the entrance on the opposite side of the building. Inside, I could see the commandant eating from a bowl of food as he paced back and forth. Taking care to remain hidden behind a curtain, I took advantage of my first opportunity to observe him when he was not strutting by giving us orders. He looked almost normal as he stood at one of the open windows looking over the camp.
He took a few bites of his food and then carefully set a solid piece on the windowsill with his hashi. Then he donned his hat, and I heard the door slam, and saw him walk away from the building after exiting out of the front. I was at a loss as to why he placed the food out there until I observed a gull land on the sill, peck at the food once, then take it in an orange beak and fly away. My stomach sank as I stepped out of the shanty to see the bird turn into the breeze fleeing from another gull, and swoop around the corner of the building.
I fumed knowing that the soldiers had pigs to butcher and fruit to eat, that we had only mealy rice and whatever we could buy or beg from the Filipinos in town, and he was feeding the birds. I didn’t think I could hate Rat Bastard more than I did that day.
Ditzy did find another soldier for me, but it wasn’t the same. We went out to meet him one night and he nervously showed me the fruit, two calamancis this time. They would be hard to eat because the acidic juice would sting my sensitive gums, but they were large and my mother said any kind of fruit would help keep the scurvy away. The guard was older, stubby, and his cock smelled, and after I stroked it a few times to get it stiff, I told Ditzy I couldn’t put my mouth on it without throwing up.
She argued with the guard for a while, but he eventually gave her one of the lime–colored pieces of fruit. She bit into it and squeezed some juice onto his cock. After a few tentative licks I was able to take it and began sucking him to completion. It didn’t take long before I had a mouthful of his cream. There was a lot more than Yuto had delivered, and it surged into my mouth like a water faucet. As far as I was concerned, it was food and I gulped it down, noting that it went well with the lime flavored juice. After he handed over the fruit, I was disappointed he left immediately without asking for anything more. It made me think of Yuto’s charming bow and my first kiss.
When I returned to my room, I woke my mother and gave her the prize, which made her smile with delight. That changed abruptly when I refused to answer any of her questions about where it came from. I loved my Mom, and always before she could make me fee bad enough to confess any crime. That night, though, when I refused to tell her the truth or to lie to her, she looked at me as though she had lost me somehow, like I was a different person. She wanted to share the orange–colored meat with me, but I insisted she eat the that, while I ate the peels. Afterward, when were laying there staring through the mosquito nets at the ceiling, she whispered, “You’ll be careful, won’t you, Tanya?”
***
For months we had been hearing rumors about the Allies returning to the Philippines, but there was no evidence of it until one afternoon in late September. I was on one of my walks around the campus when I heard a man yelling. I looked up to the clock tower of the main building to see a blond man waving a shirt back and forth in the air and cheering at the top of his lungs. A few people had developed what Nurse Baker called combat fatigue, and they looked similar.
Eventually, I understood him to be saying, “Bomb those bastards to bloody hell.” Everyone in the plaza turned their attention to him, and we finally saw what he saw. High in the eastern sky were rows and rows of planes in formation heading toward Manila. We had seen planes above before, but these were bigger than the Japanese Zero’s we were accustomed to seeing. Soon, everyone realized they were American bombers and they cheered and waved their clothes in the air, also. The man in the tower encouraged us, and we all yelled as loud as we could as wave after wave of planes passed.
Rat Bastard appeared suddenly, followed by Mamoto and a squad of men, giving orders and trying to disperse the cheering crowd. They had little success until they pointed rifles at the man in the tower, forcing him to climb down. As he was being dragged toward the soldier’s barracks Mrs. Blackwell began clapping until everyone joined in. The man was tan, with blue eyes that jumped out of his thin, bony face, and he smiled broadly as he went by acknowledging the applause.
I asked Mrs. Blackwell who he was, and she said, “He’s a hero, that one. A real hero.” Her ebullience rubbed off on me and we followed him as he was taken to stand in front Rat Bastard. He was hit in the back of the head, and knocked to the ground when he didn’t bow. As he laid there, the commandant made a new rule, no cheering when Allied planes fly over from now on. Anyone caught doing so would be punished. After the announcement, they left him there, and several of the men picked him up. He seemed to come to his senses quickly, and showed a big grin in response to the backslaps and words of support he received from the crowd.
“It won’t be long now,” he said as he walked by “I’ve heard the Allies have landed at Luzon.”
This set people to talking excitedly about the prospect of freedom, and I was swept up in the joyful possibility along with everyone else. It was impressive how much everyone looked up to the man, and when Mrs. Blackwell told me his name, I remembered it.
Anti–aircraft guns from the city started firing, and soldiers were spreading out telling every one that for our own safety we should go inside. Mrs. Blackwell and I walked together with several others as we were herded to our building by a stubby soldier.
From behind us a loud explosion blew at our clothes and concussed our ears. I ducked instinctively, and then looked back in the direction of the blast. The soldier was on the ground, his chest a bloody mess, and his rifle in the dirt. Mrs. Blackwell tried to stop me, but I walked back toward him. It seemed like someone died every other day at Santo Tomas, mostly old people from the consequences of poor nourishment, so I had seen many dead bodies being hauled away in the funeral cart. They were always wrapped in a sheet, though, so I never saw their faces.
The soldier’s face was still, his mouth and eyes open, as though his death came before the pain that must have emanated from the hole in his chest could register. Other soldiers were gathering near me, and telling the small group of us who had encircled him to stay away. The men were saying it had been a malfunctioning anti–aircraft shell that didn’t go off at altitude, but exploded when it fell back to the ground. I looked again into the round face of the soldier and was startled to recognize him. He was the fat soldier with the smelly cock who had given me a full mouth’s worth of cream.
***
I began to pay attention to things that were being said about Ditzy. Some of the men called her a Jap lover. Ditzy always said the ones that called her that were mad at her because she wouldn’t trade with them because they had VD, and the ones that did like her wouldn’t stand up for her to the others for fear of being called Jap lovers, too.
Nurse Baker was particularly critical of Ditzy and her rumored activities. In addition to heading the Morality Committee, she was in charge of the Infirmary, and she tried to use her position to find evidence against Ditzy. I had overheard one of the women saying Nurse Baker had refused to give her medicine for her VD until she told all she knew about Ditzy.
As a result, the committee regularly withheld meals from Ditzy for infractions big and small, but she did not go hungry. In fact, Ditzy seemed to be gaining weight, but it was always hard to tell because she had taken to wearing an old dress that hung on her like a sack. I didn’t think I could be sure, though, until I saw her naked.
Once, after Ditzy had traded for a piece of fish she held onto it until Nurse Baker came by. Then she pulled it out right under her nose and ate it with obvious enjoyment. The woman was furious and we laughed together about it when she told me.
She never let all the punishments, gossip, and being voted out of her room several times get to her, though. If anybody could stay calm and carry on, it was Ditzy. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to do as well if the committee found out about me.
Feeling the sharp pain of hunger one morning, I returned to the deserted alley in Tulipville to see if Rat Bastard was still feeding the birds. I took shelter in one of the shanties and watched for him through the window. I heard a knock from inside his billet, then I saw him appear with a bowl of food in his hand stuffing rice into his mouth with the hashi.
As he stood near the window he ate slowly, which told me he wasn’t hungry like the rest of us. After eating and staring out over the camp for a while, he again placed a piece of food, it looked like meat or a vegetable, on the outside of the windowsill. He immediately put on his cap and left out the front of the building.
There wasn’t anyone else in view as I stepped into the open and searched the sky for gulls. There were two high above heading motionless into a breeze. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they spotted the morsel, and on an impulse, I grabbed an old suitcase from one of the shanties, carried it across the alley and placed it on it’s end under the window. I heard the gulls squawk and one made a swoop toward the window. As I stepped up on the suitcase, the bird landed on the sill facing me, wings spread and cawing. It was the meanest looking bird I had ever seen, but I wasn’t going to let it scare me away. I yelled back at the bird, grabbed the food, jumped down, and ran.
When I had gotten far enough away I stuck it into the single pocket of my dress, and smiled. I was elated as I walked back to the Education building, found my mother resting on her cot, and shared the large piece of cooked caribou with her.
Rat Bastard, it seemed, was a man of habit. Each day he left food for the birds and left the building. I returned every day to Tulipville and became very adept at warding off the birds to ensure I got the food before they did. The only times I didn’t get it was when he didn’t leave the building right away. I knew if he saw me, he would kill me for stealing his food, but I didn’t let myself think about the possible consequences.
My favorite spot to hide was in a shanty on the alley along the Education building. The adjacent shanty faced the alley along commandant’s billet, and there was a wall made of an old packing crate separating the two. I found I could sit on an old paint can, and see Rat Bastard’s window through a large crack in the wall. When I was sure he was gone, I would shoot out, run around to the next alley, grab the food, and take off.
***
Children didn’t have tasks to keep them busy, so there was little to do except walk around during the day. I strolled across the campus thinking I would get in line early for the second meal of the day. At the food shed I saw a knot of women talking in hushed tones, so I got near to eavesdrop. A soldier was about to be executed, I heard, and I immediately ran toward the Guard House.
I had seen executions of prisoners once before when two Aussies were caught in town after going over the fence one night in an attempt to escape. After a lot of pleading from the Executive Committee of internees, they were stood up near the Guard House and shot while we looked on helplessly.
I had never witnessed a guard’s execution, but I was glad it was a soldier and not one of the men this time. As I neared, I saw Mamoto standing over a smaller man on his knees, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back. I thought I must have misunderstood the women, because the man was not in uniform, but in a colorful silk robe which had been pulled down to his waist, exposing his chest. His face was white, as though it had been painted, but smeared with his tears. All of the soldiers were lined up in formation on one side of Mamoto, and all of us on the other. I spotted Ditzy near the front of the crowd and maneuvered near her. “Is it a soldier?” I asked.
“Don’t you recognized him?” she said. “It’s your lover.”
My stomach wrenched as her sarcasm told me who she was referring to, and I recognized the young, earnest face of Yuto. Ditzy explained that he left with a group of comfort women disguised as one of them, but was discovered and returned last night. It was a desperately stupid plan, she said, but he was afraid of being punished.
“For what?” I asked.
“For stealing food from the soldier’s bodega and giving it to prisoners.”
Rat Bastard arrived and was saluted by his troops. He spoke at length to his men and we internees, and one of the men translated what he said into English. For us, he emphasized the importance of following the rules, and for his men, the dishonor of cowardice.
Mamoto then backed away. Rat Bastard took a position behind the kneeling Yuto. He withdrew his sword, rested it briefly on Yuto’s shoulder, held it ceremoniously in the air, and swung fiercely in an arching loop across the top of his shoulders. His head tumbled a few feet away from his collapsing body.
I had closed my eyes too late, and as I hung onto Ditzy, the image of Yuto’s head in the dirt, his eyes in a lifeless stare, kept repeating in my mind. He stole that food to give to me, because he liked me, and that simple act of fondness had caused his gruesome death. After the crowd dispersed, Ditzy stood me upright, “Like I said, Kiddo. You’ll go crazy if you start liking men for anything more than their cocks.”
***
It was hard to get the soldiers to talk to us after the execution. Even Ditzy’s favorites avoided her, and their were none for me. Ditzy cautioned me against trading with the men, because they didn’t have anything of value any more, and they often lied about what they had. I didn’t tell her about my daily thefts from Rat Bastard, mainly because she would warn me of the danger, and I didn’t want to be reminded of what I already knew. Trading with soldiers was one thing, but stealing from Rat Bastard himself was courting a quick death.
I made sure I wasn’t followed on my trips to Tulipville. More frequently men would approach me on my walks around the camp and say things that suggested they knew I made trades. Perhaps, it was my association with Ditzy, or the normal rumors that spread through the camp like monsoons. Just the same, I took precautions by ducking in and out of alleys until I was sure no one saw me.
Settling onto my paint can at the usual time, I waited for Rat Bastard to appear in the window of his billet. As I peered through the crack in the wall, rain started to rattle the tin roof. Suddenly, a man appeared in front of me in the adjacent shanty blocking my view. He wore a satchel around his neck, which I immediately recognized as Oscar’s.
I remembered him teaching us how to make and fly kites during the first year, and if he saw a kid that was sad, he would pretend to pull a candy out of his ear, and give it to him. His wife had died of a heart problem brought on by the stress of malnutrition the year before. He was still a young, good looking man, and I liked him.
He seemed to be acting discreetly because he looked around, then pulled the curtain across the entrance, further obstructing my view of the commandant’s window. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was there, so I held my breath as he placed the satchel on the cot, and pulled up an old trunk next to it. He wore the remnants of a dress shirt, the white long ago turned to gray, but his long pants had been cut into shorts, which he unbuttoned and dropped to his ankles. His cock swayed under the front tails of the shirt as he sat on the trunk facing the crack, reached into the bundle, removed a book, and began to read.
The book was one I hadn’t seen before. All of the books in camp had been passed to the women in my room several times to be read and re–read, and were familiar to me. This one had a plain yellow cover with Lady Chatterly’s Lover printed in black on the front.
I was mesmerized as I watched his cock lengthen to an enormous size as he read. The only other stiff cocks I had seen were on Japanese men, and this American man’s was considerably longer and thicker, and without the extra skin at the end. As it rose up, my mouth hurt just thinking about trying to put something that size in there, but my mouth watered at how much cream I thought a cock that size could hold.
Oscar grabbed it and slowly stroked it back and forth as he turned a page with his other thumb. It was interesting to see how he handled his cock, his movements having a different rhythm than mine that I could only describe as more masculine. As he hunched over the book his strokes quickened and became more aggressive. The speed increased again and the book slipped out of his hand to the dirt floor. He reached for it and, as his head came up, he looked directly at the crack and paused. I pulled my head to the side instinctively, then held still hoping he hadn’t noticed me.
I heard movement on the other side of the wall and was about to run when his cock poked through the crack not six inches from my face. He must have been standing against the wall because his cock was in so far I could see the hair at the root. Oscar didn’t say anything as the stiff, white thing loomed in front of me. The cock disappeared and I could hear him stroking it furiously, then it appeared again.
It was so big I wanted to touch it, and I knew he had seen me and what he wanted by sticking it through the crack. I looked carefully to make sure there were no spots on the meaty thing, took a breath, and grasped it with both hands. He groaned instantly. I moved the paint can to better position myself facing him, stroked his cock firmly, and licked the end. He groaned again as I worked him, licking as much as I could, and I eventually got my mouth over the cap. It was frustrating that I could get the previous ones deep in my mouth, but this one was just too big. It was a delight to hold, though, and I handled it roughly like I had seen him do, and licked and sucked as much of the end as I could.
He started bouncing against the wall so hard I thought the shanty was going to fall down around me, then I felt the warm stream squirt onto my tongue, pulsing three times, and I gulped it down. My whole body tingled at the sensation of his cream sliding down my throat and into my stomach. There was not as much as the fat soldier had delivered, and it was not sweetened by lime juice, but when you are always hungry, swallowing any kind of food is extraordinarily satisfying.
Oscar withdrew from the crack, and collapsed on the trunk, his cock dangling. I remembered Ditzy’s rule at that point and was disappointed with myself for not making a trade with Oscar beforehand. I looked through at him, and asked, “What do I get for it?” hoping he would offer something of value anyway.
He smiled, then froze. I heard footsteps coming down the alley in front of the shanty in which Oscar sat. The sound of boots was unmistakable, and it meant the guards were coming. Not bothering to pull up his pants, Oscar grabbed the satchel from the cot, stuck his fingers in the crack I had been looking through, lifted the wall, and slid the object underneath toward me. After setting the wall back down, he whispered, “Give this to Archie. Now, get out of here.” I saw him step out of his pants and pull back the curtain just as the soldiers arrived.
They were yelling and started beating Oscar with their riffles. I saw blood from his head splatter on the pants of Mamoto as Oscar fell to his knees. Terrified, I threw the satchel around my neck and took off in the other direction down the alley parallel to the one with the soldiers, my bare feet splashing in the fresh puddles of rain.
A small crowd had gathered at the front of the Education Building in response to the soldier’s commotion, and I ran into it, trying to lose myself there. Then, I turned and looked back. I could see Oscar lying on the ground with Mamoto standing over him. The other guards were looking for something in the shanty.
The crowd began separating and Rat Bastard appeared leading a contingent of guards, and he marched through to Oscar’s shanty. The soldiers were still pulling his and the surrounding structures down, until he arrived. He said something to them, obviously angry, they handed him something, and he turned and walked back toward the crowd.
He stopped and addressed us in his usual angry and superior manner. His officer translated terribly, and one of the French men who had done business with Japan before the war, gave a better interpretation. “There is a new rule. No more books. All books are to be turned in immediately. Anyone found with a book will be punished.”
His announcement done, he scanned the crowd, and my breath caught in my throat as his eyes landed on me. His gaze lasted only an instant, then he stomped off toward the soldier’s billet, followed by Mamoto, who was followed by the soldiers dragging Oscar through the mud by his feet. One arm was bent at an odd angle as it trailed behind his bloody face. His previously large cock, now shrunken and bloody, was visible to all. They dropped him in front of the Infirmary, but Nurse Baker was in the crowd, examined him, and shook her head. An older man brought a sheet, and they wrapped him, and placed him next to another wrapped body on the funeral cart. Mrs. Blackwell cried more than anyone at his sudden transformation from vibrant man to mummy. We were all at a loss to explain why it had occurred.
Almost immediately, people from the executive committee, began talking about how they were going to collect all the books. Some people argued they should petition the commandant, but they were quickly silenced by the phrase I had heard a million times whenever there was consideration for breaking one of the Japanese rules. “Don’t do anything to hurt the camp as a whole.”
I wondered if the Bible Oscar carried in his satchel would be an exception to the rule. I didn’t think so, and I suddenly felt conspicuous. It was only a matter of time before someone asked why I had Oscar’s satchel. I decided to deliver it as instructed immediately, and I headed toward the Outback.
I didn’t know Archie, but as the leader of the cheering from the clock tower for the first American planes we had seen, everyone knew of him. After Mrs. Blackwell called him a hero, I paid attention to everything that was said about him. He was an Aussie who had worked as a carpenter before the war, and the adults spoke well of him as someone who could fix things, although, some thought he was a show–off. He worked in the food shed, but since the whole camp usually shut down for 2–3 hours during the heat of the day, I thought he might be in his shanty.
I didn’t know which shanty, and I garnered quite a few stares with my dress soaked through, the oil cloth satchel over my shoulder, and my furtive glances into every hovel wondering if I would find him. The rain swelled, and I was about to give up in frustration when I peeked into a well made structure that stood on stilts. A man was laying on a cot smoking a cigarette, and I knew him immediately from the same smile he flashed at the clock tower. He looked up at my arrival, and said, “G’day there, Girly.”
I stood at the entrance with my hair dripping over my face, feeling alone and upset, and trembling uncontrollably. When I didn’t answer, he stood and escorted me up the step and inside. He told a couple of other men who had stuck their heads out to stare to “Bugger off,” pulled the curtain, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Now, now, Girly. Bob’s your uncle.” He pushed some of the hair out of my face, and said, “Say, I know you. You’re Tanya, aren’t you? Tanya Robinson?” I nodded, and he lifted the satchel over my head, set it on his cot, and looked at me again.
“How’d you know my name?” I asked.
“I’ll bet every bloke in camp knows your name,” he said. “A pretty face like that?”
It was the most direct compliment from a man I had ever received, and I couldn’t decide if I should cry or smile in response. I think I was doing a little of both as he pulled me to him, and I felt two big arms envelope me. He held me firmly, and swayed ever so slightly.
My mother spent most of her days in bed because her bout of dengue fever had been going on for months. She had previously been affectionate, but all of that had been sucked out of her by the fever. The last we knew my father was in another internment camp in Java, but I didn’t know if he was unable to write, his letters were never delivered, or he had died like so many others. I hadn’t felt his touch in three years. So when Archie held me, I was surprised and receptive. I let my arms encircle him and held on as tightly as I could.
Eventually, he said, “You’re going to catch your death of cold in that wet dress. We’d better get it off and warm you up.”
You could catch your death from a lot of things at Santo Tomas; breaking the rules, shrapnel, rat bites, malaria, or a minor cut that became so infected you died even after Nurse Baker cut off your foot. But I knew you couldn’t catch your death from a little rain and cold. Archie’s smile was so warm, though, and his affection felt so good, I didn’t want it to stop. I unbuttoned the top, and pulled my soaked dress over my head. He rang it out, hung it on a nail, then took a shirt that was neatly folded from an open box, and began to dry my naked wet skin thoroughly. He smiled the whole time as he made sure he brushed every part of my body with the rough linen cloth.
I knew it was wrong, of course, and I would be chastised by the Morality Committee if I was caught. Everyone would look at me like they looked at Ditzy. They would punish me in the same way they had punished her, by taking away my meal ticket, or worse. I could feel a hunger inside, though. Not the usual gnawing from lack of calories, but a hunger for affection.
The cloth was exquisite against my skin, and his free hand was warm and rough in a similarly pleasing way. I had the littlest of breasts, and he was generous with his attention to those and to the area between my legs, drying the fine curly hair that was there. It was like he was testing me, somehow, with his gentle brushing. When he was done, he stood back, and looked at me. “If you’re not the prettiest thing in camp, I’m a dunning rat.”
Suddenly embarrassed at my nakedness, I stepped forward and embraced him again, nuzzling into the hair on his bony chest through his partly open shirt. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me in return, and we stood in each other’s embrace for a long time. It was as good as I ever remembered feeling.
I became aware of something pressing against my stomach and, as I bent back to look, I saw the hard tip of his cock pointing out of the waist of his loose shorts. Archie said, “You hug tighter than a python, there, Tanya.” He tried to pull me back to him, but I held him away.
Seeing his cock reminded me of Oscar’s, and what had just happened to him. I couldn’t shake the image of his beautifully stiff, then bruised and bloody cock from my mind. I withdrew from Archie, and sat on the cot holding my arms, trembling. I had sucked the cream from three men, and they were all dead. I couldn’t help but think there was a connection.
He sat next to me, slipping his warm hand around my shoulder. “Tanya, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s the most natural thing in the world, and I am going to make you feel so good, you’ll think you died and went to heaven. No, wait. I don’t mean died, you’re not going to die, just feel good, really good. I promise. Archie’s going to take good care of you.”
“Oscar’s dead,” I said
“What?”
I told Archie what I’d seen, starting with me standing in the crowd; the beating and his body being dragged through the mud after the strutting commandant.
“The Rat Bastard!” Archie said. I later found out it was Archie who had coined that name for the commandant.
I pointed to the satchel, “He said to give that to you.”
“Did he?”
“Why does he want you to have his Bible?” I asked.
“His Bible? I don’t know.” Archie picked up the satchel and lifted the flap, exposing the large, King James Bible. He thumbed the pages briefly, then replaced it.
“Put on your dress,” he said, his voice full of alarm. “If they know about Oscar, they may know about me, and I have to get rid of this.”
His worried expression alarmed me, too, and I pulled my still damp dress from the nail where he had hung it, and buttoned it while he peeked down the alley from behind the curtain. “Wait a few minutes,” he whispered, “then get away from here. Come see me at the food shed next meal.” He tucked the satchel up under his arm, and turned to me, saying, “You’re my girl, Tanya. From now on, right?”
I was surprised and flattered by the conviction in his voice, and I nodded. He left then, and I heard one of the men down the alley ask, “Hey Archie, who’s the new sheila?”
“She’s mine,” he said angrily. “Touch her and I’ll cut your bloody knob off.”
Archie found me at the meal and we arranged to meet after curfew outside the Children’s shed. His broad smile shown in the dark as he approached. He walked straight into me, threw his arms around my back, picked me up, and kissed me. Surprised again, I felt myself melt, then embrace him in return. It was more exciting than Yuto’s kiss, but the same warm feeling persisted as he slipped my hand into his, and we walked.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“It’s a secret,” he said. “You can’t tell anyone about us, where we go, what we do, anything. You understand?”
“Why?”
“You’ll see,” he said. I held on tightly to his hand as we rounded the building housing the Infirmary and climbed a set of rusty stairs up two stories onto the roof and to a small shack with a door. Archie pulled two pieces of metal out of his pocket, looked around, then crouched on one knee and inserted them into the lock. The door came open in his hand, and we entered a dark passage, crept down some stairs where he opened another door, and we were standing in a large room full of books.
“What is this place?” I asked, never having seen anything above the first floor Infirmary.
“A library,” he said. “Old Rat Bastard would have a fit if he knew we were in here, so mum’s the word.”
“What are we going to do?”
He took me down an isle of books and picked out an encyclopedia, saying “I’m taking my girl on our first date. You’re my girl, right, Tanya?”
I grinned, feeling stupid and delighted at the same time, and we went down another, darker isle where he struck a lighter, and pulled Oscar’s Bible off the shelf. Both books in hand and me trailing behind, Archie went to a wall below a window where there were several blankets made into a kind of mattress on the floor with mosquito netting hanging above. He opened the window, and we sat down on the blankets. He retrieved a small lantern he had made using coconut oil, lit the wick, set it on the sill, and opened the Bible. I hadn’t noticed a large hole had been cut into some of the pages in which was nestled bits of wire and items I didn’t recognize. I did recognize the set of earphones he retrieved from the encyclopedia as the kind airmen wear.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a radio,” he said.
I was flabbergasted. Archie was the keeper of the radio! He was the one who kept us informed of the outside world, who let us know Rat Bastard was a liar, who made us believe the allies could win and that MacArthur would come to our rescue.
He said it was an old radio he had to repair after Rat Bastard confiscated the others. It needed several parts and he described how he slipped over the fence and into Manilla at night several times until he found members of the Filipino resistance who could get him what he needed. Once it was working, he dismantled it and hid the pieces in two books, and gave one book to Oscar. He must have gotten nervous and changed his pieces to the Bible. He said Oscar was always carrying his Bible around and he had always said concealing it in plain sight was the best strategy. Someone found out Oscar had part of it, and turned him in to Rat Bastard. He said, now, I was the only other one in camp who knew where the radio was. If anything happened to him, I was to find someone I could trust, and tell them where it was hidden.
In awe, I watched him assemble the radio and work carefully until he could hear something on the earphones. Then he let me hold one end of the phones while he held the other, and we laid together, head to head, listening. The engaging voice belonged to a woman called Manilla Rose, it was the first radio I had heard since President Roosevelt announced the war, and her wavering voice was magical to hear.
Hello you fighting orphans of the Pacific. How's tricks? Reception okay? Well, it better be, because this is all request night and I've got a pretty nice program for all my favorite little family, the wandering boneheads of the Pacific Islands. This first one is for you guys on Leyete. It’s Ronnie Baker playing 'My Resistance Is Low’.
After the music we listened to the news that Archie said was never accurate. There were a lot of disguised references to battles, with no mention of glorious victories by the Japanese. He sometimes got a signal from Corregidor, and he hadn’t heard of any Allied ‘withdrawals to previously prepared positions’ lately, which was a euphemism for an ignominious defeat. He thought those were both good signs. When the program was over, he put the radio back into the books on the shelves and came to stand with me at the window. He pulled a candy bar from his pocket, and said, “Sweets for my sweety.” It was a one from a U.S. military ration, dry with a white residue from moisture, which he broke in half, and we each ate our crumbling pieces.
It seemed like I had found a wizard the way Archie snuck away from camp, found parts to build a radio, picked the locks, hid it all from the guards, and produced a whole chocolate bar. And he trusted me with the biggest secret of all. As he stood against the faint light of the window, the city of Manila behind him a majestic ruin from the bombing, his blond hair tousled, his lips formed into a provocative smile, he was magnificent.
He removed his shirt, stepped out of his pants, and kissed me. If he had not held me so tight I would not have been able to stand, I was so weak with feeling for him. He slid his hands down to my thighs and lifted my dress, sliding his hands up my body as he did so. Holding me in his arms, he laid me down on the blankets, exploring and fondling me, whispering, “You’re my little girl, aren’t you Tanya?” I answered yes a dozen times.
He spread my legs and brought himself on top of me, and I kissed him as hard as I could, feeling ignorant of how one kisses a man. His tongue pushed into my mouth and it felt right, so I took it in willingly. Propped on his elbows, he was fondling my breasts with both hands. I realized it must be his cock pressing between my legs, but I had no idea what to expect in this situation.
The pressure grew more intense as he began a pushing motion, and while it was dry at first, it turned liquid. “I love you, Tanya,” he said, and I felt him rip into me. The pain was excruciating, and I shrieked, and froze. Instantly, I felt angry and betrayed. “You hurt me,” I said as my eyes filled with tears.
He kept thrusting into me slowly, less painfully than at first, but each thrust a little dagger. He shushed me, and kissed me and told me how much he loved me, and that it would only hurt for a little while, and that I would be his little girl forever. I wanted to believe him, so I kissed him and held him and tried not to wince at his stabs. The look in his eyes as he beheld me convinced me of his love. He went on a long time until, finally, he groaned my name, stopped and withdrew.
It hurt to move, but I wanted to feel him next to me again, so I cuddled close. He held me and I looked at his cock covered with my blood, which made me think of Oscar. I didn’t know what to make of what Archie had just done to me, but I knew I didn’t want anything like what happened to Oscar to happen to him. I wanted to feel the warmth of his kiss radiate through me again. I reached up and touched my lips to his, and was rewarded with the same heat as before, and I smiled. “Does this mean you’re going to marry me?” I asked.
“You’re a might young for that, now. After the war, though, I’ll put you right. You can count on old Archie. Mum’s the word about us until then, right Tanya?” We have to protect the radio. Without the radio, there is no hope, and we are all lost without hope.”
I agreed, and he held me for a while and told me all the things we would do together after the war. It made me remember things I used to do, like ride a merry–go–round, play at the beach, and eat cotton candy. Somewhere, my hope of ever doing those things again had faded to little more than dim memories, and Archie had brought them to life again. It made me feel bad for Ditzy. “When do you think we will be rescued?”
“Soon,” Archie said. “Soon.”
“Can I tell Ditzy. She thinks we are all going to be killed when MacArthur comes.”
“Ditzy?” he said. “Don’t you tell that little Jap lover, anything, or she’ll turn us all in. She’ll get hers one day for giving comfort to the enemy.”
I was too surprised by the angry feeling behind what he said to respond. I suddenly felt cold and itchy. There must have been a hole in the netting, because I had several fresh mosquito bites.
The next morning I was sitting on the grass with my bowl of rice paste when Ditzy approached. She moved slowly until she reached me with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. When she didn’t say anything, I stopped eating and said, “What?”
“I was just wondering what you look so happy about this morning.”
I shrugged, “Nothing.”
“Come on, spill it, Kiddo,” she said, still standing over me with her legs spread wide. “Nobody has a right to look that happy in this hell hole.”
I had been consumed with feelings for Archie every waking minute since our date, and I wasn’t able to hide the small grin it gave me.
“You look like you just ate one of those bugs you love so much,” she teased. “Which one is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which guard, of course,” she said. “I haven’t see any new ones for a while. How’d you find one whose willing to risk his head for you?”
“It’s not a guard,” I said.
Ditzy’s expression changed abruptly. “One of the men?” she said too loudly. “I told you not to trade with the men. They don’t have anything.”
“Everything doesn’t have to be a trade, you know.”
“Haven’t you learned anything from me? Santa Clause is a lie, Kiddo. Now who is it?’
Ditzy was making so much noise we were starting to draw attention, and I thought if I told her, she would lower her voice. “His name is Archie Bollen. He’s very important around here, and he says MacArthur is going to save us, and… and he’s good to me.”
“Son of a bitch! Archie? I should have guessed,” she said, pacing a little now, dashing any hope of her being more quiet. “What did he give you for it?”
“For what?” I asked.
She stopped and turned to me, her voice at last softer, “For the privilege of sticking his cock in you, that’s what. He fucked you didn’t he?”
I had heard the word before, but never understood what it mean until that instant. “It wasn’t like that,” I said. “It was nice, like a date.”
Ditzy asked firmly, “What did he give you?”
“We shared a candy bar,” I said.
For the first time she uncrossed her arms. “That’s it? You gave it up for one of his rancid, dirt–flavored candy bars? I could have gotten you a fucking can of spam, or a Red Cross comfort package. The Japs think virgins are like magic.”
“He loves me,” I said. “We’re going to get married after the war.”
Ditzy didn’t look well as she carefully sat down next to me, trying to calm herself and focus on her words. “Look, Kiddo, I understand what it’s like to want to feel something besides hunger. And if Archie can make you feel that for an hour or two, then I’m all for it. But don’t start thinking it’s real. He’s not going to marry you, because Archie doesn’t love anybody but Archie. If he did, he would be stealing food from the kitchen for you every day, like Yuto did.”
Her words renewed my disappointment with myself for not getting anything from Oscar or Archie to share with my mother. “You’re just jealous,” I said. “Because nobody loves you.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Ditzy said, throwing up her arms. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She placed her hands behind her on the grass, and leaned back. “Well, at least you won’t get VD from him.”
“How do you know? Have you seen his cock?”
“Oh, for Crissakes,” she said. “Archie wouldn’t get his cock within a mile of me or any other woman.”
“What do you mean?”
“He only likes first timers, ones like you with breasts the size of bird eggs. He wouldn’t know what to do with a real tit.”
“Why are you being so mean?”
Ditzy suddenly hunched over and grabbed her stomach. Her face strained and she gave a little shriek.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Did you eat some bark?” Internees were known to get desperate and eat bark or weeds they had gathered which made them sick.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Maybe, you should go to the Infirmary,” I said.
“I’m not going any where near that bitch.” Ditzy took a deep breath, saying, “There, it’s better now.” As she started to relax, it struck again, and she hunched over in pain.
I started to get up, “I’ll go get someone.”
“No,” she said sharply, grabbing my wrist. “It always goes away.” A minute later, she was breathing deeply, her face more relaxed. “See?” she said.
“What is it, Ditzy?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
She looked around, then at me. “I think I’m going to have a baby.”
***
We saw the American planes more frequently and air raid sirens were going off almost every day. One result of which was the routine of the camp disintegrated. Roll calls were abbreviated or abandoned altogether. Meals were delayed, and the lines increased as we couldn’t schedule them effectively. Many of the women had moved into the shanties with the men when they discovered the guards no longer forced them to go home at curfew.
Rat Bastard made a new rule, however, that men and women internees had to take shelter in one of the buildings during an air raid. It was typical of him to profess a concern for our safety, yet abuse or kill us for breaking a rule. The extra people coming back inside made the time there warmer, noisier, and unbearably crowded, and it prevented Archie and I from being together.
He said he wanted to be with me every night, and usually he would signal me while I was in line at the food shed by putting his finger along side his nose. That meant I was to meet him that night, an hour after curfew. If there wasn’t an air raid, I would wait for him at the children’s shed, and we would walk up to the library.
Sometimes we would listen to the radio, always he would lay me down, make me promise to be his little girl forever, and stick his cock in me. It never hurt as bad as the first time, and I was glad he was right about that. I didn’t look forward to it, however, because it felt like I was being pried apart. His cock didn’t look as big as Oscar’s, but it seemed too big for the space I had.
I don’t think I ever felt as connected to anyone, though, except my mom, as I did to Archie when I felt his cream spurt inside me, and he squinted his relief at me with those blue eyes. It did more than anything else to make me feel hopeful about every leaving Santo Tomas alive. I loved the cuddling after, too.
He tried to get me to suck his cock once, and I wanted to taste his cream, but I was paralyzed with a fear that if I did, something bad would happen to him. So I told him I liked having his cock in me so much I didn’t want to do anything else. He liked that. For the first time, I thought I understood what love was, and I wasn’t going to do anything to endanger the feeling.
If there was an air raid, I was stuck in whatever building I happened to be near when the soldiers started shooing us inside. One evening I was on my way to meet Archie when the siren sounded and the soldiers came running out of the barracks and yelled at everyone to get inside. I was nearly at the children’s shed, so I hid from the guards and went a different way to see if he would show up. At least, we could be in the same building together. Archie was not there, but I did see another girl hiding in the shadows, as though she was waiting for someone, too.
A guard spotted us both, and began yelling in Japanese for us to go inside. We all three went up the steps of the Annex, and, when we were inside in the light, I recognized her. Anna was thin, about fifteen, and Russian. I knew her from when we had school as not very bright. My mother said all the Russians were crude, and had head lice. Anna looked at me sternly, then lost herself in the crowd. I wandered around until I found Ditzy sitting alone, and joined her.
***
I was afraid to go back to Tulipville after Oscar’s death, afraid mostly I would feel as terrible as I did after seeing his dead body being dragged away. The morsels I had acquired most every day that week were not enough to quell the hunger, but they helped, and my mother always managed a worried smile when she saw what I had brought to share. Sometimes she was too weak to eat, or sleeping, so I wrapped the food in some cloth and put it under her pillow for her to find when she was ready.
It was the day before Christmas when I decided to return, acutely aware that some of the parents had fashioned gifts from what they could for the younger kids. I wanted something for my mother, but the only thing I could think of was the bird food.
It was raining frogs as I made my way down the alley, but my hiding place had been torn down by the soldiers, so I found a new one in the remains with a view of the window of the commandant’s billet. Like magic, he appeared in the window, placed the food on the sill, and I heard the door slam. I was out of hiding and into the alley in a heartbeat, and stepped up on the old suitcase. The last couple of times I had to reach a little farther across the sill to find the food, as though he was trying to coax the birds inside. I strained to locate the lump, patting my fingers on the wet sill until I had it in my grasp.
As I clasped the lump in my fingers, something grabbed my wrist and squeezed like a trap. I looked to see short fingers pressing into my skin, and my eyes followed up the arm to the grinning face of Rat Bastard. He grabbed my other wrist that I had placed against the sill for balance, and swiftly pulled me in the window. I kicked, and I think I screamed briefly, until I landed on the wooden floor of the room with a thud, feeling a sharp pain in my hip. I immediately gathered myself to my knees and bowed before him, although he said nothing.
I dared not look at him directly. I found myself scooting backward on the floor, the water from my dress leaving a trail of mud until I was against the wall of the small room. I could see his dusty boots and the end of his scabbard, but I did not hear it withdraw.
He began pacing slowly back and forth directly in front of me, as though he was trying to decide what to do. I looked up enough to take in the room for the first time. It was small, about ten feet square, with two windows on the outside wall, an open door revealing a toilet, and another closed door. There was a small shrine against one wall with a bowl holding incense setting on a table, and a matt below on the floor. It was obvious from the bed in one corner this was where he slept, and there was a small desk and chair in another.
He suddenly reached down, grabbed me by the hair, pulled me up to my feet toward the bed, and pushed my head with his fist, letting go of me as he did. I landed in a sitting position on the bed. He resumed strutting back and forth in front of me, grinning in his superior way, and started speaking Japanese. I understood none of it, but it sounded like one of his lectures to the internees, the tone of which I had heard a dozen times. I sat up a little and realized I was sitting on a real bed, not a cot, and it bounced a little under me. The desk caught my eye for the neatness of the items arranged on top. There was his bowl of food with the hashi, a cup, his black–brimmed cap, a small, bulging cloth rice bag, and a book, opened and face down, as though his reading had been interrupted. I recognized the book, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He had stopped talking, and when I looked at him he was staring at me the way I had seen him stare before, as though he knew me. He was young, maybe twenty–five, not much older than the soldiers under his command, and short. His face was clean shaven and his teeth straight, so not ugly like Mamoto, but he looked mean like Mamoto. He resumed speaking Japanese, his tone angrier now, and I watched him. Everything about him suggested he was trying to scare me, and I was scared about what was going to happen to me, but not shaking scared. More of a thoughtful scared.
As I thought about it, I realized he would not kill me here, but in front of the others to make an example of me. I began to imagine my mother crying as I was beheaded. I was less concerned about my own life than I was about disappointing her for not being more careful.
I still had the food I had snatched from the sill in my hand. I opened my fingers and saw that it was a piece of pork. I thought of Ditzy and her conviction that we were all going to die, and we should enjoy what little there is to enjoy here. I knew I would enjoy the pork, so I put it into my mouth and chewed.
Rat Bastard leaned in and started screaming at me, his face filling with blood and his Japanese words spewing into my face. I shrank away slightly, but watched him as I chewed the tough meat and he paused. His face was only a foot away from mine, his eyes were clear and narrow, and he sucked air in through his closed teeth. I don’t think he liked me looking at him directly, but it was an interesting face, so I stared as I chewed. I enjoyed the sensation of the meat working its way down my throat, and I said, “Why don’t you speak English?”
He quickly stood upright, looked confused, and spoke more Japanese.
“I know you can speak English,” I said.
Again he looked confused as more Japanese words came out.
I pointed to the desk and the open book on top, and said, “That book is in English. You were reading it, so you must speak English, too.”
He hesitated, then went to the door in measured paces, opened it, looked through it, and closed it again. He said quickly, “English is an inferior language.” Then he paused, “But I will use it to explain how you will be punished.”
I was stunned by what I heard, or rather, what I didn’t hear. The commandant had always spoken through an interpreter, and we had all grown used to the slaughtered English of the soldier who translated his orders, but now he spoke perfect English, without a hint of accent. I recovered enough to say, “Why? You didn’t want it. You were going to give it to the birds.”
This provoked a laugh, and he said, “It wasn’t for the birds. It was for you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“When I was your age I used to trap pheasants. I would put food out every day until they were accustomed to finding it, then I put the food under a box, and when the bird took the food, I pulled the string, and the box fell on them. Pheasants are very stupid, and so are you. All Americans are stupid, and we will drown all of your men in the Pacific, and take their wives and daughters to our beds until they no longer amuse us.”
I finished swallowing the food, feeling stupid for having been caught so easily. “Did you cut off the heads of the pheasants?
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “But not until I broke their necks,” He butted his closed fists together and made a twisting motion, and laughed again.
I imagined him twisting my neck in his short fingers, then cutting off my head with his sword. The image of Yuto’s eyes staring into the dirt came to me, and it angered me that Rat Bastard was so mean. I said what I don’t think I had ever said to another person. “I hate you.”
His face went blank, then livid again. “I do not care about your hate, because you’re an American girl who only likes American boys who play silly games. Even the Japanese girls only wanted to date American boys. They were stupid girls who dishonored the ways of their parents.” He leaned in again, “You have no respect, for rules, for your superiors! That is why you will be executed.” He grabbed me by the hair again. “You will be an example to all the other girls who do not bow correctly, and do not show proper respect. I shall give your head to your mother, as a Christmas gift.”
“They hated you because you’re so mean,” I yelled back. “Everyone hates you because you’re mean.”
He screamed, “I was not!” Like thunder, the room was quiet after his crack of words. He let my hair slip through his fingers, and stood up. He looked suddenly tired, pulled out his desk chair, and he sank until he was facing me in a slouch on the edge of the seat.
As he stared at me, I wiped a tear on the shoulder of my dress. “Why are you so mean to us?”
“You are prisoners of war, you deserve worse,” he said. “If you did not want to be treated this way you should never have allowed yourself to be taken prisoner.”
“You made us come here. We didn’t have any choice.”
“A Japanese soldier would never allow himself to be taken prisoner,” he spewed again. “He will fight to the death, because the only honor is dying for the Emperor while killing the enemy.” He took a breath, and looked around the room thoughtfully. After a minute, he said, quietly, “I am Nisei, and I was to be Kibei. You know what that is?”
I shook my head.
“My parents moved to Oregon in 1922. When I finished high school I wanted to study law there, but my father wanted me to learn the old ways. So he insisted I go to university in Tokyo. I wanted to come back, but— .” He stared at me for a while, then stood, and sat next to me on the bed. “You remind me of her,” he said, and he placed his arm on my shoulder. When I looked at him, he tried to kiss me.
“No,” I said, and I turned away.
Angry again, he stood and towered over me. I could hear him breathing through his teeth, then his breathing quieted. “You may go,” he said.
I didn’t think I heard him correctly, and I looked up.
“Go,” he said.
I stood up hesitantly, “Aren’t you going to cut off my head?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Return here at midday. And tell no one of this. If I have to listen to another plea from one of your committees for leniency, I will cut off their heads, too.”
I crept toward the door, unsure of his intent. “Wait,” he said. The commandant took the bag from his desk and threw it toward me. I caught it awkwardly, and when I looked up he was staring out of the window.
I closed the door behind me as I left, finding myself in an outer office with a large desk. There was another door, and I opened it to the outside. This brought a guard to immediate attention until he realized I was not the Commandant, then he smiled. I made my way down the steps, then ran toward the plaza.
I slowed to a walk, and as I did, my sadness deepened. It gradually came to me that I knew my fate. In spite of my internment and Ditzy’s dire predictions, and with encouragement from my mother, I had always considered my future full of promise. I wondered often how I would look when I had pretty clothes, who I would marry, and where I would live? Now, I knew the answer to those questions: there would be no future for me. My rolling head would become an example to the others to not break Rat Bastard’s rules. I cried a little as I thought again what a disappointment I would be to my mother.
I decided to open the bag as I trudged along, and was surprised to find dried fruit, a tin of milk, a can of spam, a package of soup, cheese, and cigarettes. How typical of the man to give me such a bounty knowing he was going to kill me before I even had time to digest it. I was glad I told him I hated him, and I would tell him the same thing tomorrow, too.
I wanted to see Archie. He worked in the food shed in the afternoon and, though he didn’t like when I hung around and tried to talk to him, I went anyway. When I found him, he gave me a stern look, and no signal, and I gave up. Ditzy came out of the food shed a little later, having finished her usual task of picking stones out of the rice. She lit a cigarette, and we found a place to sit on some grass. I opened the bag and handed her the tin of milk.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s milk.”
“I know what it is,” she said. “And unless you’ve grown a cock, you know I don’t have anything to trade for it.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Why are you giving me a gift?”
“Because you are my friend, you taught me things, and you’re having a baby.”
“I am not your friend, and nobody in their right mind would appreciate what I taught you.”
“Stop it. I’m just trying to be nice,” I said, pushing back the tears with the back of my arm. “Besides, it’s Christmas.”
Ditzy softened, “Sorry, Kiddo. I’m just not used to people being nice to me for no reason.” She pulled a tool out of her coat pocket, punched two holes in the tin and drank. She wiped her lips, and offered, “Want some?” I shook my head, and she finished, letting the last of it drip onto her tongue. “Babies need milk,” she said, allowing herself a rare smile. “Thanks.” She turned the empty tin in her hands, “So you found a soldier, huh?”
I looked down instead of answering.
“Soldiers are low on food, too,” she said. “They are eating the Red Cross packages instead of giving them to us.” She pointed to my bag, “He must love you.”
“He doesn’t,” I said.
“Yeah, well, he is doing better by you than Archie.” When I responded with an angry look, she said, “Sorry, sorry, I know, Archie loves you.”
“And I love him.”
“Of course you do,” Ditzy said. “You can’t die from a broken heart unless you love the guy.”
“I am not going to die of a broken heart.”
“You will if you love Archie. Just like the other one.”
“What other one?”
Ditzy explained there was another girl around my age, in the early days of internment when there was more food, and baseball games. Archie had never played the game before, but he became the best player, and fun to watch. She fell in love with him, too, and the two of them were always sneaking off. Her mother found out when she got pregnant and raised a stink about it with the Executive Committee. They said Archie was too important to the welfare of the camp, though, and the girl had wanted it, so the only thing they did was tell Nurse Baker to help her end the pregnancy.”
“What happened to the girl?”
“Oh, she’s still around, but she is dying.” Ditzy paused until she saw the question on my face, then said, “Broken heart.”
The air raid sounded, and I groaned because I knew it meant another crowded wait inside. I helped Ditzy up, and we started walking toward the Education building. My mom had been in the Infirmary for the last couple of days, and I told Ditzy I wanted to sit through the raid with her, and we parted.
When I arrived at the Infirmary my mom was asleep. The all clear sounded a while later, meaning the air raid was mercifully short, but I decided to stay with her anyway. As I sat beside her, I watched the man who worked in the Infirmary during the day helping the nurses change bedpans prepare the body of an older woman who had died during the night. He was wrapping her in a sheet in a solemn, careful way, as I am sure he had done dozens of times before. How would he wrap someone without a head, I wondered. Would he stitch it back on? The gruesome thought lingered with me as he wheeled her down the crowded aisle toward the front door, limping as he did so. I knew she would end up like lumber on the funeral cart I saw waiting outside on my way in. I took small comfort in that I would at least have people who cared watch my two–piece body wheeled away; my mother, Archie, Ditzy, and Mrs. Blackwell.
My mother was perspiring as she slept, but the small pan of water that was at the bedside of most every patient was empty, and the wash cloth dry. I stared at her lined face and wondered if I would look like her when I grew up, then I cried knowing I would not grow up. She murmured and reached weakly for my hand. I held it with both of mine, and was about to tell her how much I loved her when her eyes closed and she drifted off. Instead, I placed the dried fruit under her pillow, knowing she would look for it when she awoke.
“Would you like some more water?” asked the man with the limp.
“Yes, please,” I said. As he took the pan away, I watched a young Asian woman being escorted to the Nurses desk by a soldier. Her blue and red silk robe was particularly striking, and it looked similar to the one Yuto wore. She was told to lie down on an exam table, and a wheeled curtain was drawn in front of her.
When the man returned with the water, I asked, “Who is she?”
He set the pan with a fresh cloth down on a small table near my mother’s cot, saying, “A comfort girl. Korean, I think.”
“Is that like a nurse?” I asked.
He laughed loudly, strangely, and said, “More like an entertainer.”
I dipped and wrung out the cloth, and wiped my mother’s forehead. Yuto had joined a group of comfort girls when he tried to escape, and I wondered if she was of that group. As I wiped, I started feeling flush myself, and I had to pause to hold my head, which was aching.
“Here,” he said. “Let me do that while you get yourself some water.”
I thanked him, and he brushed my mother gently while I got up to go to the fountain. On my way back, I saw the comfort girl was alone. She looked about Ditzy’s age, long dark hair, and very pretty. She had one hand underneath her head on a pillow, and held a cigarette in the other. Having heard her bark at one of the nurses in broken English, I approached her cautiously. She looked up briefly, then reached for a glass on the table next to her, drank the rest of the water, and returned it to the table, ignoring me. As I lingered near, she barked again, “What you want?”
“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Would you like some more water?”
She looked at me suspiciously, then turned away, saying “No,” then corrected herself, “No–thank–you.”
“You’re English is very good.” I said.
Her manner softened somewhat. “My parents teachers, before war.”
I ran my eyes over the finely sewn silk robe that flowed over the bed. “You’re very pretty,” I said.
She exhaled a cloud of smoke in a way that suggested she was disgusted. “That why I never be teacher. Some Jap think me pretty.”
“Did you love him?”
“No,” she said, her voice a bark again. “He try to buy me, my parents say, ‘No.’ Then he… he take me, then he rape me. Now, I fuck soldier all day.”
Puzzled, I said, “I thought you were an entertainer?”
“No entertainer,” she said, her voice sharp. “Fuck–fuck, maybe, ten soldier. Every day. Sometime, all at once.”
I tried to imagine having sex with Archie ten times a day. I didn’t think I would like it. I didn’t like having sex with Archie that much once a day. “Do you like it?” I asked.
“No,” she said definitively. “No like fuck–fuck. No like Japs. No like men no more.”
Nurse Baker’s voice rose above the general din of the Infirmary, “No. I told you. Take her to your own Infirmary. We will not treat your disease–ridden whores here.” She was directing her words to the soldier who brought the Korean girl, who looked as though he barely understood what she was saying. This caused Nurse Baker to raise her voice even more. “We have no more medicine for this. Do you understand? Take her away, right now.” He offered a feeble, broken–English protest, and Nurse Baker threw up her hands and marched toward us.
“Tanya Robinson,” she yelled as she approached. “What are you doing over here?” Without waiting for my answer, she said, “You have no business talking to this woman. She is a harlot and should not be allowed in the company of decent women.”
“She couldn’t help it,” I said. “She was kidnapped— ”
“Don’t you argue with me, young lady. You had better decide what kind of women you are going to be. A tramp like her and your friend, Ditzy, or a God–fearing woman like your poor, dear mother. Now get out of the way.” She pushed the wheeled curtain aside, brushing me back, and yelled, “Randal!” The man sitting with my mother rose and limped over to her.
“Get this worthless piece of human excrement out of my Infirmary,” she said, and marched back to the soldier. “The commandant says we do not have to take care of soldiers, that’s a rule. And she belongs to the soldiers, not us. Now, take her away.” Randal helped the woman up, laughed, muttered, “Entertainer,” and walked her out.
Feeling tired, and my mother still asleep, I napped in the Infirmary until the evening meal. The wait in line was interminable, and I brought our bowls of lugao back and managed to rouse my mother enough to eat. She enjoyed the fruit, and I told her I would have more in the morning.
I was considering sneaking out after curfew to try to see Archie one last time, but another air raid sounded so, I settled in on the mat beneath my mother’s cot for the night. All the men and visitors were told to leave. Only kids without someone else to take care of them could stay with their mothers in the Infirmary over night.
Billy’s mother was a couple of beds over, her legs swollen from beriberi, and when the lights went out, he came to lay beside me. Grateful for somebody to hold on to, even a six–year–old, I held him close and gave him some cheese. He was very happy about that, and kissed me on the cheek in the way I had seen him kiss his mother many times.
It was sticky hot as I pulled the mosquito net over us, and tucked the bag of food under my head as a lumpy pillow. I was hungry, but didn’t feel well enough to eat. We listened to the distant bombing and watched the tracers flicker in the night sky through the window. I drifted off to the sounds of night–time coughing from the many women in the ward.
As I often did, I dreamed of food. I was hurrying to meet Archie, trotting along the latrine toward the Outback and carrying my morning bowl of lugao. There was something protruding into the path, and I tripped, spilling the entire contents into the stinking sewer. I was devastated, and I fell to the ground holding my stomach, which was twisting with pangs or hunger. The sun was bright, and I was hot and sweating, burning up I was so hot, and I was wishing for Nurse Baker to cool me with a wet cloth as I lay in the grass. I wanted to feel the cool, damp cloth between my legs because that seemed to be the hottest part of me. I started rubbing between my legs trying to cool the area off and it felt very good, which struck me as odd it should feel so good. I looked down, and there was a naked Billy on top of me, his little hips bouncing between my legs. I was surprised Billy knew how to do that, but I was very glad, and I held his little head to my chest as he bounced. Suddenly, he grew in my arms to an enormous size, and when I saw the mosquito net above me, I realized I was not outside, but in the Infirmary.
I was so hot I could feel the sweat dripping off my forehead, and someone had his cock in me, pushing in and out. I turned my head to see Billy asleep next to me, and I thought it must be Archie on me, and I hugged him tightly. His movements were different than before, somehow. They had a jerkier quality, but they felt good, and I wanted to feel close to him, so I said, “Tell me I’m your little girl, Archie.”
“You’re my little girl, now.” The whispered voice was rough and raspy, definitely not Archie’s, and I realized it was someone else on me. I was stunned, and I tried to see who it was, but his face was buried in my neck. I was so hot and weak, I couldn’t attend to anything except the cock driving me into the rough mat. Helpless, I let go of him and laid there as he continued for a long time. I kept thinking his cock felt different than Archie’s, and I wondered why. I would have liked it if I wasn’t so unbearably hot. He bounced faster and harder until I felt him release inside me, and he panted as his body collapsed on top of me. He was so heavy I could barely move my chest to breathe, and I thought I was going to suffocate under him.
I drifted off, and when I awoke again, he was gone, my dress was pushed up to my waist and as wet as though I had been walking in the rain, and my bag of food was gone. I curled up next to Billy, wondering who the man was, and why his cock felt so much better in me than Archie’s. I awoke to my mother calling, reminding me to get in line for the morning meal. She asked what else I had for her, and I had to tell her I had lost it. She swallowed her disappointment, then said, “You don’t look well, Tanya. Are you feeling all right.” I assured her I was fine, kissed her, and left.
I felt depleted physically and emotionally as I walked toward the food shed. I considered going back to the Education building to take a shower, but that would mean waiting in line for a long time, and then the food line would be even longer. I decided there wasn’t much point in being clean anyway, as this was going to be my last day on earth. I had planned to make a Christmas gift of the chocolate to Mrs. Blackwell and the cigarettes to Archie, and now, I wasn’t even going to have that pleasure.
I saw Archie in the food line, and he gave me the signal, which made me smile that he still wanted to be with me tonight, even though I knew I wouldn’t be there. I thought about telling him everything with the idea that he could show me how to get over the fence and hide out with the Filipinos. When Rat Bastard found out, though, he would probably kill Archie and my Mom just to set an example. I didn’t want to do anything that would hurt others in the camp.
The wait in line was exhausting, and I had to sit down several times until I finally got mine and my mother’s lugao. I carried the bowls carefully, the beginning of last night’s dream flashed and gave me a start, until I reached the Infirmary. We ate together, and I sat on the floor next to her, wiping her forehead and talking.
“Did you sleep well?” my mother asked. “I always have such pleasant dreams in the Infirmary.”
“No,” I said.
“You don’t look well. You should get more rest, Tanya,” she said, pressing her hand to my forehead. “You’re warm.”
“Do you think Daddy is alive?” I asked.
“Yes, of course he is,” she said in the same positive tone she always used when speaking of the future. “He is very resourceful and clever, that man.” I wanted to believe her, so I smiled, too. “You are so much like him,” she said. “He is very practical, not much concerned with what others think of him, always does what needs doing, without complaint. I can always count on him.”
“Do you think he would still like me? Lately, I haven’t been very— good.”
“I’m sure you are as good as you can be in a place like this,” she said. “and I’m sure he will always love you.”
I felt better as we talked for the rest of the morning. As the clock tower bell rang out signaling the midday break, I gave her a hug and kissed her good–bye, happy that Nurse Baker had come to check on her.
As I walked down the long path toward the front of the Commandant’s billet, taking care that I was not seen by any other internees, I grew more frightened. The same guard was standing on the steps and he smiled again in his odd way as he waved me inside. The commandant was seated at a large desk in the outer office. He did not look at me at first, then he stood and opened the door to the bedroom for me. My steps were slow and awkward. Once inside, he took a position on the other side of the mat, stood straight, hands behind his back, and said, “Remove your dress.”
I was terrified of the tight way he held his lips as I unbuttoned and removed the dress, dropping it to the floor.
He looked me up and down, his gaze full of malevolence. His hand jerked out with a finger pointing to the mat, “Get on your knees.” I had expected him to kill me in front of the whole camp, so I was glad my mother wouldn’t have to watch. The straw mat dug into my bare knees as I lowered myself, and my head was burning and too heavy to hold up. I remembered Yuto in the same pose, and I knew what would happen next. I suppose I thought there was a chance he would change his mind or, perhaps, I was just too afraid to contemplate my own death, but I didn’t think it would come to this.
I heard him withdraw his sword. I could not bring myself to look as I heard his boots clomp until he was behind me. My eyes filled with tears, and I thought of my mother and how sad she would be, and how foolish I had been to steal food.
I felt the cool steel of the sword as he rested it on my neck, then used it to flick my hair to the other side, leaving my neck bare. Then he slowly dragged the blade from my shoulder up to my neck sending a chill down my back. My tears dripped pat, pat on the mat, and I wanted to plead for my life, but I knew it would do no good.
He rested the edge of the blade on my neck, and I heard his uniform rustle as he withdraw it. I remembered how he looked with his sword held high in the air over Yuto’s head. The tears stopped as I waited for the swinging blade that would end my life, and I said, “I hate you.”
The sword whistled as it swung through the air, disturbed the hair on the top of my head, and sailed on past me. When I realized he had deliberately missed me, I collapsed to the mat in tears. I heard his boots clomp, and the sword sheathed, then I felt him pick my near lifeless body up, and he laid me on the bed.
As I sank into the mattress, he leaned into me and sniffed. I watched his nose wrinkle, then he said, “You smell.” He went into the bathroom and returned with a small pan of water and a wash cloth, which he set on the bed. My curiosity piqued, I watched as he carefully rang the water out of the cloth and put it to my forehead.
As he dampened my skin, it felt rough, cool, and— affectionate. It was too much to take, and my tears flowed again. He sat on the edge, dipped and rung out the cloth again, and proceeded to wipe my tears, and then my arms, wrists and hands. He washed every part of me, his face impassive, and his manner not loving, but dutiful, like Randal wrapping the body of one just deceased. The cool air surrounded my skin every place he touched making it feel like I was in a late evening breeze.
When he finished, he stood and started removing his clothes. I knew then what he intended. His short, muscular frame looked smaller out of his uniform, but he still held himself imperiously. He kneeled on the bed, and pulled my legs apart. To my great surprise, he bent over and kissed repeatedly high up on my thighs until he worked his way inside me with his tongue, and he started licking me. His tongue moved as rapidly as a beetle’s wings. It was a remarkable sensation, quite unlike anything I had ever experienced.
He continued for a long while, varying his lingual movements, and I could feel something building inside me. It made me nervous, and I felt perspiration exude from my skin. His kisses migrated upward to my stomach, breasts, and lips. He looked at me like Yuto did, like I was something he treasured, but lost, and had found anew. I didn’t want to kiss him because I hated that he had threatened me, but my lips responded in spite of myself. Perhaps, it was my desire to obliterate the fear with something stronger that pushed me to turn myself over to him. What he was stirring in me was incredibly intense, and unfamiliar. His cock pressed against me and I reached for him, and let my hands graze over his smooth, hairless back.
Unlike Archie’s, the Commandant’s cock glided into me on the lubrication created earlier by his tongue. It fit marvelously, and I could relax without feeling I was going to be split in half. He was slow and forceful with each thrust, and I found myself wanting to move with him to maximize the contact. He pulled himself farther up on me, which made his cock rub me in a different, and more enjoyable way. Slower and harder with each thrust, his body pressed into mine, driving me higher up on the bed, and the intensity of my pleasure was growing. It was delightful and confusing at the same time. Archie never felt this good, yet I loved him. I hated Rat Bastard, but I was taking him in as greedily as the morning meal.
As he stared at me with that lean, smooth face, my back began to arch and the area where his cock was plunging in and out of me turned to pins and needles, then they swarmed over my body until I shook underneath him as though I had the chills. My whole body swelled with ecstasy. He was still going when I had recovered enough to open my eyes to him, and I stared in amazement until I felt his cream squirt inside me. He kissed me again, and I wanted to kiss him some more, but his face grew troubled, and he rolled off.
I could do little else but look at him, searching for something that would explain his contradictions. Eventually, I spoke, “You said I reminded you of her. Who was she?”
“Just a girl, in high school,” he said, his sigh barely audible. “That was a long time ago.”
“Did you love her?”
“I was young, I didn’t know anything about love.”
“Did she love you?”
“No. She wouldn’t even go out with me. She only liked American boys who had cars. Her parents knew my parents, said they were too traditional, that they needed to be more American, that I needed to be more American.”
“Is that why you’re so mean?”
The commandant stood abruptly, grabbed the wet cloth, and washed his genitals. He looked disgusted as he did so, and it felt like he was washing off any trace of me. When he started putting on his clothes, he said, “She wasn’t a virgin, either. A little tramp, just like you.” I watched him dress, too lost in my bliss to comprehend him. When he had nearly finished, he said, “You must go, now.”
I climbed off the bed slowly, and watched him pull on his boots and don his jacket, while I picked my dress up off the floor and pulled it over my head. I stood watching him as he straightened his jacket and belt, taking care to make sure everything was in place. When he had finished, he said, curtly, “Return tomorrow for your punishment.”
I couldn’t believe he was letting me go, nor could I understand why he did not kill me now, if that was his intention. In the last hour I had gone from pitiful anticipation of my death, to an indescribable pleasure at the hands of this man, and I was bewildered. He reached for another bag, and tossed it to me, and pointed to the door.
As I stepped outside into the bright sun, a warm breeze blew in from the west. The guard came to attention immediately, and I went down the steps and onto the path. He said something, and I turned to see him come down the steps, and motion for me to follow him. There was only one long path to the Commandant’s billet, no one in sight, and anyone approaching could be plainly seen, so I was puzzled by his desire for secrecy. I followed to the side of the building, and after he looked around, he put his finger on his nose and said, “Kiyoshi.” I had seen the gesture before, and understood that was his name. “Kiyoshi,” I repeated.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of bukayo. It had been a long while since I had tasted the Filipino candy and I eyed it carefully, the sweet scent detectable from his open hand. He retrieved another piece and placed it next to the first. It occurred to me this was a negotiation, and he was trying to trade with me. Two pieces of bukayo seemed a fair deal, so I looked down the path to make sure no one was approaching, then I touched his pants below the waist and pointed to my open mouth. He looked confused, then suddenly shook his head, took my free hand and placed the candy inside. I wasn’t sure if we had made a deal or not, so I pointed to his cock and my mouth again, tried to look willing, and said, “Swapi–changi?”
“No swapi–changi,” he said. Then he patted my hand and motioned me away. My second unanticipated gift of food for the day brought a smile to my face, and I pointed to my nose, and I said, “Tanya.” He made a good attempt at saying my name, and got it right after a few tries.
“You like?” he said pointing to the candy still in my hand.
“I like,” I said.
Kiyoshi smiled again, put his hand on my shoulder, and turned me away. I walked down the path thinking I would have enjoyed a mouthful of cream to go with the candy, but was grateful for the gift, anyway.
I went straight to my mother to find she had been released from the Infirmary, and was back in our room. Not wanting to lose it again, I hid my bounty with her, told her to save the milk for Ditzy, and kept the cigarettes and cheese in my pocket. When I saw Billy, I stuffed some cheese in his mouth, and made him kiss me on the cheek again. I met Archie that night, and was taken aback when he asked where I got a fresh package of cigarettes. I should have thought of an explanation before hand, but the best I could come up with at the moment was that Ditzy gave it to me.
“Ditzy?” he said, his tone accusing. “She says she gets this stuff from Filipinos, but I think she fucks Jap guards. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fucks Rat Bastard himself, the little traitor.”
“Would that be so bad? We’re all hungry.”
“Yes, it would be bad. It would be about the worse thing you could do. That would be giving comfort to the enemy.”
“Maybe it would just be filling your stomach.”
“You’d better stay away from her,” he said, extracting one of the cigarettes from the pack and lighting it. “She’s going to get hers when the war is over.”
Archie found something on the radio, and I was grateful for the interruption in the conversation. We sat and listened together to a San Francisco station. It was rare we could get that signal, and from what he heard, Archie deduced that the invasion of the Philippines was on, and it was only a matter of time until we were rescued. Our rescue was always immanent, according to Archie, but I no longer believed it.
“Won’t the Japs know that?” I asked. “What if the they decide to shoot us before MacArthur gets here?”
Archie’s normally bright face went dark, and grew darker in the slight pause he gave before answering. “Wouldn’t make sense,” he said, shrugging off the notion. “If they know they are about to lose, they’ll surrender.”
“The Japanese never surrender,” I said. “They will fight for the Emperor to the last man.”
“That’s just what they say. When it comes down to it, the yellow bastards will surrender.”
After putting the radio away, Archie laid me down and put his cock in me, and I again wondered why his felt uncomfortable, and Rat Bastard’s felt so much better. I thought if he kissed me down there it might be slipperier, and I could feel good with him like I did with Rat Bastard. When he called me his little girl, I was reminded of the stranger who stuck his cock in me. Even his felt better than Archie’s. Afterward, we talked about what we would do after the war, where we would live, and what kind of job he would get. I told him I wanted a little house in Monterey near the beach, and a little boy like Billy, but it was like the Food Game. It passed the time, but it didn’t fill your stomach.
***
I said my last good–bye again to my mother as the clock tower rang at midday, not knowing if I would ever return to her. Again I was admitted to Rat Bastard’s bedroom, told to remove my dress, and kneel on the mat. When he ceremoniously rested the blade on my bare neck, I said, “I hate you.” I realized I had been holding my breath, and when he swung and missed, I thought I would pass out from relief.
He put away his sword, and began removing his clothes. I rose, and reclined on the bed. He again kissed my thighs, and thrust his tongue inside me. Instead of mounting me, however, he massaged the area with his finger, and did so with such effectiveness, that I soon felt the pins and needles spread over me. The first time the feeling occurred, I thought it was an aberration of some kind. Apparently, what I felt was repeatable, and he was capable of triggering the response in several ways. He then used a combination of his tongue outside and his finger inserted deeply to bring the swell of pins and needles again. I was astounded I could be made to feel that way, and disbelieving no one had told me of the possibility.
The delight was so overwhelming I could barely follow his demand that I sit upon him with his cock inside me. I had to prop myself up with my hands on his taut stomach until I found I could raise and lower myself with my knees at his side. It was the first time I had been in control of the movements and I brought the feeling on yet, again. As I collapsed onto his chest, I asked, “How do you do that?”
“Seseko,” he said, his lips thinning to a grin. He then threw me on my back, mounted me, and drove me hard into the bed. There were no pins and needles that time, but it was overwhelmingly pleasurable. I was exhausted and limp under him, barely breathing until I felt him release inside me. Then I reached for his neck and kissed him on the lips. He responded passionately, then pulled away abruptly.
I could still detect his scent on me, as he tried to wash me off of his cock with a wet cloth. His mood became more sullen as he dressed, his glances at me on his bed more disapproving. I couldn’t decide which part of him was true, the part that enjoyed making me feel ecstatic, or the part that enjoyed scaring me.
“If you loved her,” I asked, returning to our previous conversation. “why didn’t you get a car? Why didn’t you act more American?”
“You can’t just pretend to be something you’re not. I still have the eyes and the skin, which she hated. She didn’t want a Japanese boy pretending to be an American, she wanted an American.”
“I’ll bet she would have liked you if you did to her what you did to me.”
“No, she didn’t,” he said. “You must go. Now.”
I got up from the bed as he was putting on his belt and I tried to get him to look at me, but he wouldn’t. I pulled on my dress, and he handed me a bag of food items, and stood with his hands behind his back facing the window until I left.
As I came out of the billet, Kiyoshi looked up from where he was sitting on the steps, smiled, then dropped his head. My body was still humming from the bedroom sensations, the air was thick with heat, and I took a deep breath enjoying the slight coolness it delivered. I sat next to him on the steps and waited, expecting him to pull out a piece of candy from his pocket as he had before. He patted his pockets, from which I gathered he had nothing for me. I held open the bag of food and offered it to him. He looked inside, smiled, then shook his head, and patted me on hand. His face was soft and round, very much like Billy’s, without any of the sharp features of grown men. We sat together looking at the fence and what was beyond, and I had the feeling he wanted to be on the other side as much as I did. I reached over and kissed his cheek, which surprised him, then I stood and left.
For the next week I was with Rat Bastard every day, and Archie every night, which only served to highlight the contrast between the two. Archie was full of hope and made the possibility of getting out of Santo Tomas and a future seem plausable, but there was little physical pleasure in being with him.
Rat Bastard came within inches of cutting off my head at the start of each visit, then taught me a dozen ways to feel more alive than I thought possible. Sometimes he read me passages from the book until I wanted him inside me so bad I squirmed on the bed. If I tried to coax him by reaching for his cock or touching myself, he would threaten to cut off my head. He enjoyed his cruelty toward me, and my pleasure at his hands. I could never tell which he liked more.
There were only a few people I could share my bounty with without generating too many questions. Archie was not on the list, but my mom, Billy, Mrs. Blackwell, and Ditzy were.
“You’re a life–saver,” Ditzy said, as she opened the tin of milk. “I haven’t had a decent swapi–changi in a month.”
“Why not?”
“Pregnancy does strange things to you,” she said. “I used to love sucking cock, but now I think I’d rather eat a bug. Just the thought of having one in my mouth makes me want to heave.”
“Take your pick,” I said, pointing to the bag.
She rummaged around, took some cheese, then said, “You must be gaining weight with all this, better be careful.”
“Of what?”
“Getting pregnant, of course. Are you having your monthlies?”
Ditzy explained this was the bleeding Mrs. Blackwell had described. She said hers had stopped, but they resumed after she started doing a lot of trades, and that’s why she got pregnant. Getting pregnant had never occurred to me, although as I thought about what I had learned, it should have.
“You look worried,” she said. “Archie must be giving it to you regular.”
I didn’t answer, too preoccupied knowing that I was getting it from two men nearly every day, and I was suddenly terrified of getting pregnant.
“Better start using the back door,” she said. “You don’t want to end up like me. When Nurse Bitch finds out she is going to drag me in front of the committee, and there will be hell to pay.”
I made her explain about the back door, which she did in great detail. “Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked.
“Not if he does it right, and he’s not too big. How big is Archie, anyway?
“Too big,” I said.
Ditzy chortled, then said, “Like his head. So, does he get you off?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you have to have to ask, probably not. What about the other one?”
I had never let on about the commandant, so I played dumb. “What other one?”
“Archie isn’t giving you all this food, and a regular soldier couldn’t get away with it. I figure you must be giving it up to one of the sergeants.”
When I nodded, Ditzy educated me on what she called a climax, which I then understood is what I experienced with Rat Bastard. I thanked her, and helped her up so we could walk back together.
As she stood, she clutched my hand, and said, “Holy smoke.” She was looking down, and I looked down to see water running down her leg. “It’s happening, Kiddo. I’m having a baby.”
I helped her make her way slowly to the Infirmary, and when she told them she was having a baby, the nurses gasped in surprise and scorn. When Nurse Baker arrived, she said, “Well, Miss Rothman, your sinful ways have finally caught up with you.”
They escorted her inside and threw me out. I waited on the front steps for a while until I got a headache and went back to see my mother. I gave her the food to stash, and laid down.
***
I was sweating profusely, sitting at a table eating a Christmas dinner by myself, with bags of food like those from Rat Bastard sitting on each plate. I worried the food was going to go to waste if people didn’t arrive soon. My mother came from behind and started cooling my head with a wet cloth, and Nurse Baker sat across from me and told me I was going to have to pay for my sins.
“How much?” I asked, which made her angry, and she went on about how she knew I was fucking Rat Bastard, and when she told the committee, I would be branded a collaborator and MacArthur would shoot me when he arrived. I started crying, and my father appeared at the head of the table, but he wouldn’t look at me. He only shook his head in disappointment.
The sweat soaked dreams were interspersed with brief periods of shuddering in my cot while observing the mundane activities of the Infirmary, which made it difficult to tell what was dream, and what was real. There were mornings when bright sun streamed through the windows and someone wiped my forehead. Sometimes my mother, sometimes Mrs. Blackwell. There were long afternoons when my entire world was confined to the mosquito net hanging above me. There were times at night when I longed for Archie, to hear the radio, to talk about where we would live after the war, even to feel his big cock try to split me in two.
Most of all there was heat. Sticky, dirt encrusted grime and sweat so copious I thought I was melting. Then came the shakes, so violent I thought my bones would break as they clattered against each other. I heard conversations in the ward, and I often felt compelled to say things in response that made no sense when they came out. I heard far away bombs, the clock tower striking a late hour and a baby crying so plaintively between gongs it made we want to cry, and I heard coughs of the old and undernourished dying in the ward.
***
I couldn’t see anything clearly when I opened my eyes. I could only tell it was late afternoon from the angle of the sun through the windows. Someone was rubbing my forehead with a moist towel, and gradually Mrs. Blackwell’s face came into view.
“Well, finally,” she said. “Your fever broke during the night. You had us worried.”
“What happened,” I asked.
“You’ve got malaria,” she said. “You’ve been out for nearly a week.”
“How’s my mom?” I asked.
“Doing much better. She seems to have regained her strength recently. She’ll be back to say good night before visiting hours are over.”
As I took in the implications of being bedridden for a week, I worried that Archie would miss me and wonder what happened. “Did anyone ask about me, or visit.”
“Yes, I should say so. Caused quite a stir around here.”
Archie had made me promise not to tell of our relationship because he was afraid the Japs would find out about the radio, but he had risked everything to visit me. I was so glad he cared enough, but I would be devastated if he got into trouble because of it.
“Is he okay?”
“Him? He’s the same, mean as ever. I don’t have a clue why he came. Never set foot in here before, as far as I know. He takes one look at you all delirious with fever, and an hour later we have the medicine. Never saw him take pity on anyone before, even a child.”
“Where’d he get the medicine?”
“They’ve had it all this time, and people have died for lack of it. Fortunately, we got it in time to save you.”
“Archie wouldn’t let people die.”
“Archie?” she said, confused. “You’re head’s not quite clear yet. I’m taking about the Commandant.”
“Rat Bastard visited me?”
“Saved your life.” she said. “Only decent thing I’ve ever seen him do.”
My mother returned, and Mrs. Blackwell said good–bye. I was still in shock that Rat Bastard had visited me, and Archie hadn’t. Mom was very relieved and attentive as we talked. She gave me some food from our stash, which tasted great because I was famished. She handed me a tin of milk, and I said she should save that for Ditzy and the baby. Her head dropped in response, and I asked, “What’s wrong? Is she okay.”
My mother nodded, then said, “But the baby… poor little thing… didn’t make it.”
“What happened?”
“Still born,” she said. “Oh, you mustn’t get upset. You need your strength.”
“Ditzy doesn’t like people,” I said, my lips trembling. “But I know she would have loved that baby.”
My mother whispered, not out of secrecy, but out of shame, “It was Japanese.”
I knew what that meant for Ditzy even without looking at the sorrow on my mother’s face. “What did they do to her?”
“There was a committee meeting,” my mother whispered. “They said she was a collaborator. If she had told them she was raped by one of the guards, she would have been okay, but the only thing she would say is that they were all hypocrites.
“What did they do to her?”
“It was a Frenchman’s idea. He said that’s what they did to collaborators there. They shaved her head.”
I thought of Ditzy’s glossy black hair, how envious I had been of its natural beauty, and how humiliated she must feel. I didn’t have much interest in talking any more, and told my mother I wanted to go to sleep. She said good night, reminded me there was a snack under my pillow, and a short while later all of the visitors left. Nurse Baker made one last round around the ward. I pretended to be asleep when she hovered over me, then she closed the door on her way out. I listened to the coughing until I fell asleep.
I felt a slight coolness and my feet being picked up and dropped over the side of the cot until they were hanging by my knees. I assumed one of the nurses was changing the bedding until I felt a heavy weight on my thighs. There was a gentle, familiar pressure on my crotch and I thought I must be in Rat Bastard’s bed, but I couldn’t remember how I got there. I tried to remember if he had made me kneel on the mat, but I wasn’t sure. I always became wet when he started his manipulations of me, and I could feel myself responding again. I grasped at his back to pull at him, wanting him to make me feel the pins and needles.
He slid into me, and settled onto my chest, his thrusting jerky and unfamiliar. It felt good, though, so I turned myself over to the building sensation. It didn’t take long until I was trembling underneath him, and I moaned my relief. I laid there, blissfully sated, while I waited for him to release his cream in me. I suddenly remembered my last conversation with Ditzy, and I said, “Put it in my ass. I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“Babies,” he said, in more of a wheeze than a voice. “Let’s make a baby.”
My head all of a sudden cleared, and I asked, “Who are you?”
He raised his head up, and I could see the craggy, grinning face of Randal. He showed his aging yellow teeth and said, “I’m a comfort boy,” then giggled.
“Get off me.”
“The others just lay there,” he said. “but you like it. And you don’t wear any panties.” His wheezing thrusts grew rapid and short, then he said, “No panties,” a few more times, and released inside me. As he collapsed, I whispered loudly, “Get off me.”
After his breathing slowed, he giggled more, rolled off, then tried to lie beside me on the cot. It was too narrow, and he was heavy. “Get away from me,” I said, pushing at him.
“It’s going to be a white baby,” he said. “Not yellow like the last one. She won’t be able to overlay our baby and get away with it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Japanese think a newborn’s cry means the spirit has entered the body. She said there was no spirit, but I heard the spirit.”
“Are you talking about Ditzy’s baby?”
“I wrapped him. So tiny, like a doll, with the cry of his spirit still parting his lips.”
He looked crazy. He was saying crazy things. I wanted him to get away from me. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to tell.” He extracted himself from the cot, pulled up his shorts and walked off through one of the back doors.
I was hot again, especially my crotch, and I got up and went into one of the bathrooms and took a shower. It felt good to be clean again. The ward was quiet when I returned, but I didn’t sleep much thinking about all that had happened while I was with fever. I nibbled on some dried fruit, and waited until morning.
When I had breakfast with my mother and Mrs. Blackwell, I was still weak, but happy to be out of bed and among the living. Mom said Ditzy was no longer staying in the Education building, but was staying in one of the shanties by herself. I spent the better part of the morning looking for her, and finally located her in Tulipville. When I peeked in, she was curled up on a mattress, but her eyes wide open. Her face looked large with the short stubble of hair covering her head, but she was no less attractive.
“Hi, Ditzy,” I said. She looked, but said nothing. I sat down next to her and pulled out the tin of milk I had been carrying in my pocket and handed it to her.
“Last thing I need,” she said. “I’ve got more milk than a cow.” Her eyes glistened, tears spilled over the lids, and she began to sob. I grabbed her hand and laid beside her. Slowly, she let me cuddle her, and her tears fell onto my neck. I don’t think I have ever heard a more mournful sound. Eventually, we just held each other, and I brushed the remnants of her beautiful hair.
A man I didn’t recognize looked in on us, then pulled the curtain across, and left. Ditzy said that was Roger. He looked out for her, and kept the other guys from badgering her. After the baby, she found she could tolerate cocks again, so it was a good trade. Plus, living here, she didn’t have to put up with the constant slurs from some of the women, and the unspoken contempt of the others.
“I knew the father was Japanese,” Ditzy said, “but I didn’t care. I was going to name him David. You know, like David and Goliath, because I knew he would have to fight bigger kids who made fun of him.
“She said he was stillborn, but I heard him cry, I know I did. Nurse Bitch told me I imagined it because I wanted to hear crying. She said it was better if I didn’t hold him. I wanted to, and feed him, too. My breasts were so full— ” Ditzy’s sobbing began anew, and I held her close. My dress was wet, and when I looked I could see there was milk leaking from her breasts. I imagined her little David suckling there, and his absence made me want to cry, too.
“Sorry,” she said. “No place for it to go. Sometimes, I let Roger have some. I shouldn’t because it just makes more, but I— It just feels right.”
I found myself uncomfortable without knowing why. Apparently, Ditzy knew why. “You can have some, if you want.”
I knew when she said it, that was what I wanted, but it seemed so wrong.
“Go ahead,” she said. “It’ll make me feel better.” Ditzy unbuttoned her blouse releasing one of her breasts, and immediately a white drop appeared on her nipple. I scooted down and carefully enveloped the nipple with my lips. The milk was so sweet that I was thrilled sucking it down. It was delightfully satisfying.
Ditzy turned onto her back, pulled up her dress and slipped one hand into her panties. I watched her as I was suckling, intrigued that she was doing to herself what Rat Bastard had done to me. I slipped my hand in along side hers and felt what she was doing. My finger found a place next to hers stroking what I had learned to be a very sensitive spot often focused on by Rat Bastard.
“Careful,” she said. “There is a lot of tearing down there.”
I complied with her request, remembering what the commandant had done with his finger, and swallowing as much milk as I could. Ditzy withdrew her hand, groaned quietly, held my head against her breast until her knees twisted together violently, and she gasped.
I continued sucking for awhile, until I noticed she was asleep. I covered her up, and quietly left. I don’t know how much Roger was aware of, but he looked astonished when I walked passed. I was feeling a little unsettled, which I attributed to Ditzy’s milky breasts, and the pleasure I felt at making her climax.
I couldn’t escape the feeling as the tower clock began it’s peal, and I headed toward the commandant’s billet as I always did at midday. I could still taste the milk in my mouth, and I thought of poor little David and how it should be him savoring the sweetness instead of me. He hadn’t even cried at birth, poor thing. A sweat soaked dream returned to me in which I heard the clock tower strike while a baby cried. Not the hunger driven cry of a child, but an infant screaming as he entered the world, the life spirit given voice as it entered his body.
I veered off toward the Infirmary, looking for Randal. I remembered a word he used that I had never heard before, and I wanted to know what it meant. I found him in a room wrapping the body of an old woman, and he grinned like a maniac when he saw me. “No panties,” he said.
“When did Ditzy have her baby?” I asked. “What time of day?” He continued smiling as though he hadn’t heard the question. “Do you remember what time it was?” I asked again.
“You’re my little girl, now,” he said, again with a girlish giggle.
“Were the tower clock bells striking when he was born?” I asked. “I heard a baby cry while they were ringing one night while I was here. Was that Ditzy’s baby?”
“You like it,” he said, and giggled. He had stitched the sheet tightly around the woman’s chest and neck, and was tucking it over her face. “You’re a bad girl. Now, you’re going to have my baby.”
“Don’t say that,” I said, apprehensive it might be true. “You said the spirit parted his lips, or something,” I said. “Did he cry when he was born?”
Randal snickered again. It was frustrating having him respond in such a senseless way. “Randal, what does overlay mean? You said she won’t be able to overlay our baby and get away with it. What did Nurse Baker do?”
He pinched the woman’s mouth closed with his fingers, then squeezed her nose shut. Randal’s face sagged to a frown. “She said he never cried, but he was pink with life when I wrapped him.”
Kisyoshi greeted me with a broad smile and a pat on the head as I arrived, and opened the door for me. The commandant looked mildly surprised as he looked up from his desk, but quickly repeated the routine stacking of papers as he always did, and pointed to the bedroom. It was as neat as before, and I slipped off my dress and kneeled on the mat as he came in and closed the door. I felt the sword scrape along my neck, and heard the swing. For the first time, I did not tell him I hated him. I got up and reclined on the bed as he removed his clothes.
He pulled something from his jacket pocket, a string of large beads, and set it on the bed next to a plate with what appeared to be margarine. Instructing me to turn over onto my stomach, he worked my legs apart and fingered me until I was well lubricated. He then slid his thumb inside and squeezed me between his thumb, and his forefinger on the outside.
I was hungry for his manipulations. My visit with Ditzy had stirred me in an unexpected way, and I wanted the pins and needles. As he kneeled between my legs, he smeared the cold cream on his other hand and rubbed my anus gently, probing delicately. This was new for me, and I had worried after Ditzy described it to me, but I had no regrets about anything he had done previously, so I tried to relax. After fingering me a while, he slowly and carefully manipulated the beads inside my anus, and began working his other thumb more rapidly. It wasn’t long before the new sensations brought me close to climaxing, and he pulled on the beads slowly until they each popped out, one by one. By the time the strand had been completely removed, I had shuddered with joy twice.
Before I could come to my senses, he pressed his cock into the space just vacated by the beads. I gasped as it rammed in, but from the intensity of the sensation, not pain. It wasn’t pleasing, exactly, but so powerful, I thought I might lose consciousness. When he reached under me with his finger to rub the extra sensitive spot between my legs, I twitched and trembled too many times to count. I stopped responding, and I suppose when he realized I was too exhausted to climax any more, so he released inside me, the spasm of his cock squirting his juice just detectable enough to wring a final moan from me. We laid together on the bed for a long while, touching, but not embracing. My thoughts soon returned to Ditzy, and I said, “I want to punish someone.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Someone who did something, and they deserve to be punished for it.”
He sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Your squabbles are of no concern to me. Take it up with one of your committees.”
“They won’t do anything,” I said.
“Women only want revenge when they are hurt by a lover,” he said as he began to button his shirt. “I suppose you want me to cut off his manhood.”
“It’s not a lover,” I said. “You’re my lover, and I like your… manhood.”
“It is not your place to punish anyone. You are a prisoner,” he said.
“Then you punish them. You like being cruel to us. You’ll enjoy it.”
His look turned vicious, “I do not enjoy being cruel!” He turned away as he buttoned his shirt, composing himself. “I punish you so that you learn respect for your superiors.”
I sat up, and let my legs hang over the edge of the bed. “Then do it because you love me.”
He turned in surprise, “You? A child? I do not love you. You are nothing more than a plaything who peddles herself for food.”
“Why’d you save me? You could have let me die. You let plenty of others by not letting us have the medicine and food from the Red Cross.”
“The medicine is proof that I am not cruel, not that I love you.”
“You look like you’re in love when your cock is in me. Or is that because you see her face, instead of mine?
“Shut up!” He lunged at me with both hands, his fingers enclosing my neck, and squeezing. His eyes were wide as he pushed me to my back, and his grip tightened. I couldn’t speak as I pushed on his arms, trying to free myself. I noticed his pants on the chair, so I reached for his cock. His face turned from murderous purpose to confusion, and his grip loosened. I squeezed gently.
He released me, and stood. I sat up, rubbed my neck and looked up at him, feeling like the first time he swung at my neck with his sword and missed. He had the power of life and death over all of us, and that made me want him. That he could kill me anytime he wanted, and he didn’t, made me feel more alive than when I wasn’t afraid of dying.
Maybe he truly loved me. Maybe, like Randal, he loved that I like to be fucked, or like Archie that I was still a child. Maybe he loved the other girl he saw in me. I didn’t really care why, as long as he loved me, and made me feel like I was not alone, that I was part of something bigger than my longing.
I slid to the floor in front of him, pulling his cock into my mouth. It tasted of margarine and grew thick on my tongue, and I let him know how strong was my desire for his cream. I had never swallowed it before, as he preferred to release himself while buried between my legs, and I wanted to savor every drop.
When he groaned through his teeth, I knew we had a deal. It was an unspoken swapi–changi; I would suck his cock, swallow his cream, and be the object of his cruelty and love, and he would mete out my punishment.
The next morning the commandant and I stepped up to the soldier’s barracks and into a small anteroom, bringing Mamoto to attention. He looked surprised to see me. The two spoke, and Mamoto pushed open a door into the barracks, and we all three looked in. There were about fifteen soldiers in various states of dress who all fell quiet, and came to attention.
Nurse Baker was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room with her back to me, hunched over her knees. She turned immediately, took us in, then began protesting. “Commandant, I demand to be freed. You have no right to hold me like this. I haven’t violated any rules. I will not put up— .” The slap by one of the soldiers interrupted her anger, and her tone changed to pleading as she clung to the chair. “Oh, please don’t do this. I beg you. Tell them, Tanya. Tell them I don’t deserve this.”
I am sure I didn’t smile, but she saw something in me that told her I wasn’t going to help, and her pleas to the Commandant resumed in earnest. Mamoto gave some orders, and the soldiers pulled her up, removed the chair, and dragged a mattress onto the floor behind her.
The guards started pulling at her clothes, and Nurse Baker started yelling, “No, you can’t do this. I am not that kind of girl.” They laughed as she slapped at their hands, and tried to prevent them from pulling her dress up. “Stop it! I’m a good girl. I don’t want this.”
They kept crowding in on her, grabbing at her breasts, and laughing. Gradually, her resistance weakened, and she had little choice but to let them maul her. After they had teased off her dress and underclothes, they pushed her down onto the mattress on her back. “I am a decent woman, you can’t do this to me,” she said. “It isn’t fair. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
A couple of them held her arms down on the mattress and fondled her breasts, and two more stood and pulled her legs straight up and wide. They had decided some kind of pecking order, and the first soldier got between her legs and unceremoniously forced his cock in her. “No!” she shrieked. She fell silent as he spread himself on top of her, but soon his forceful thrusts elicited little grunts from her. She turned her head up to fix her eyes on me, but they drifted away as he pounded the breath out of her, “Huh… huh… huh.” In fact, her grunts grew louder, and longer, sounding more like moans.
Her face was flushed, and her eyes were mostly closed as she writhed under the manipulations of the men, as though she had something to accomplish. The first one finished with his own grunt and praise from his fellow soldiers. Nurse Baker swallowed hard, and breathed heavily during the brief interval before the next soldier, his cock stiff, jumped on.
He was going faster than the first, and Nurse Baker was moaning more. She went nearly silent for almost a minute, then began a series of staccato grunts timed with his thrusts, followed by a long, gasping moan. She seemed surprised by her reaction as her legs twitched in the grasp of the two soldiers.
Her face and neck now glowed a bright pink, and she lifted her head slightly to watch one man sucking on her breast. The second soldier finished to more cheers, and one of those holding a leg dropped it and jumped on. Rather than let her leg fall to the mattress, she curled it around the soldier’s back. The other leg was released, and it wound around his back as well, and held tightly as he bounced on her. She fell silent again, briefly, then another loud moan erupted from her as the third finished.
The guards seemed surprised by this, and one of them said with wonder, “Ecchi–zuki.” The others nodded, and they stopped holding her down, and gathered close around her, transfixed, as she wrapped her arms around the soldier’s back. Some of the others repeated the phrase, and I whispered in the Commandant’s ear, “What are they saying?”
He smirked, and whispered back, “Very unusual. She likes what they are doing to her. She is saseko, a slut.” I remembered his previous use of the word in describing me.
Her head rolled like she was delirious with fever, and her arms alternated between holding the man slamming her and reaching out to the others, rubbing or grasping whatever she encountered. A couple of them placed their cocks in her hands and she stroked them vigorously as she was mounted by another soldier. She shrieked again before he collapsed on her, and the others had to prod him to get him off.
The fourth insisted on a change of position and she was turned and pulled to her knees. He was in her in an instant, and his hips slapped her thin butt which echoed loudly in the room. Another soldier got on his knees in front of her, and put his stiff cock in her mouth, muffling her moans. Several minutes later she spit it out and yelled, “Not again,” and moaned loudly, very like the way she had before.
I had hoped Nurse Baker would be tormented by all of this, since she was so critical of Ditzy, and others, for wanting to be with men and having sex, but she was certainly enjoying her rough treatment at the hands of the soldiers. I assumed the noises she was making were climaxes similar to what I experienced with Rat Bastard and, while I was relieved to know I was not the only one who could enjoy the act without liking the person, I was angry that this was not the punishment for her I had anticipated.
I expected to see anguish like that experienced by Mrs. Blackwell at the hands of Mamoto, or the bitter hatred of the Korean comfort girl at the hands of a group of soldiers, but I got something else entirely. The experience had triggered something hidden in Nurse Baker that was the opposite of everything I knew about her. I wondered if what I had in store for her would be enough.
A couple more soldiers did her from behind while she shoved her ear into the mattress and moaned. Eventually, she began speaking loudly to them, mostly random words like, “Stop. Fuck. No. Filthy bastards.” Every new soldier seemed to bring out more words. “You are treating me like a whore,” and “You can’t just do with me as you please,” and “I don’t want to feel this way.”
Around the ninth or tenth soldier, her response had developed a pattern in which she would talk at them until she got close, then she would be reduced to moans, then fall silent for a minute, then release a series of little shrieks, that grew louder and longer, until she collapsed. They would push her onto her back, or her stomach, or on her side and pull one leg up in the air, depending on the whim of the soldier whose turn it was. Each new position and soldier started her talking again. “I am a good girl. You can’t make me your whore.”
A new soldier came in with a small pail of something that looked like lard precipitating a lot of jabbering and curiosity. A couple of the soldiers got her to her knees again while he stripped and rubbed the white grease on his cock. With several pairs of hands on her butt, they held her while the soldier pointed his cock at her rear. It appeared there was a lot of advice being given, and they all congratulated him as it went in a little ways. My experience with Rat Bastard left me quite sure of where his cock was now fully buried, and I became aware of my own flushed face.
Nurse Baker began yelling, “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, Jesus Christ, what are you doing?” The soldier was moving in and out, sounding very happy about the whole thing, his fellows were cheering, and Nurse Baker swore loudly. She collapsed onto her stomach and the soldier stayed with her, going hard and fast. She spread her legs wide, seemed to lift her butt a little with each thrust, as though she was trying to push him off. The pattern of her response changed. Instead of the progression from talking, swearing, silence, and blissful moaning, she just kept saying things like, “I’m a whore now. Oh, fuck, I am a bad girl. You little yellow fuckers are raping me in the ass.”
A skinny soldier enlisted the help of the others and they pushed the two of them over until the soldier in her butt was on his back thrusting into Nurse Baker’s ass, who was now on top of him. The skinny soldier got on his knees over the bottom soldier, and between the legs of Nurse Baker, and starting plunging in and out of her. I thought this would surely be too much for the woman and she would spill the tears I wanted to see. I was wrong. She yelled, and moaned, and writhed as though even two men at once was not enough for her. She groaned until the top one finished and rolled off, and the bottom one rolled her over and finished with heavy, pounding strokes, and a grunt. When he crawled away, the soldiers all stood around cheering as she sat up with her legs open and looked up at them. The cream of fifteen soldiers leaked out of the rough patch of hair between her legs and onto the mattress. If I had to guess at what was behind her flushed expression, I would say she was disappointed there were no more unspent soldiers.
The door to the barracks burst open and a soldier was dragged in by his fellows, obviously with great reluctance. I recognized Kiyoshi as he vigorously resisted, but they would not let him retreat. They yelled and prodded in the same way they had Nurse Baker in the beginning until his uniform pants were down around his knees. It was clear they wanted him to take a turn with her, but he shook his head continuously. One of the soldiers finally pulled at the ties holding his fundoshi to his waist, and the white cloth dropped between his legs. The soldiers all started to laugh riotously.
I was aware that the cocks of the Japanese soldiers, like the Commandant’s, all appeared to be about the same size, and were smaller than those of the white men, at least the white men I had knowledge of. When I looked at Kiyoshi’s, I thought his cock had been cut off because there was nothing on top of his small, round testicles but a short tube of skin. If there was a anything more, it was completely hidden. I had seen Billy’s in the shower with his mother, and Kiyoshi’s testicles were bigger, but certainly not his cock.
The guards pointed at him and yelled, “Tan–Sho,” and “Chin–chin,” and laughed derisively. Nurse Baker’s attention turned to him, too, and even she started to smirk. Kiyoshi stood slumping, his minuscule genitals shrinking even more, as though in fear, and I could almost feel the humiliation I saw in his eyes when he glanced at me. Tears began to stream down his face. This caused even more derision from the soldiers until I made Rat Bastard tell them to stop. He gave some orders, and the soldiers came to attention, threw her clothes at Nurse Baker, and returned the mattress to the bunk. Kiyoshi fumbled as he pulled up his pants, then quickly left.
I told the Commandant what I wanted next, and a chair was brought to the middle of the room, and after Nurse Baker dressed, she was made to sit in it facing me. I approached her and when she looked up, she said, “Are you responsible for this?”
“Yes.”
“How could you be so cruel?” she asked.
“I never thought I could be. Turns out, you just have to have a good enough reason.”
“What reason?” she demanded.
“Ditzy’s baby.”
Nurse Baker made a telling pause before she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” I said. “It doesn’t matter. I started a rumor that you are fucking the commandant for food and supplies. In fact, a large bundle of food is being delivered to your room at the Infirmary now. People are sure to notice. And a letter has been sent to the Executive Committee from the commandant praising your extensive cooperation. The Morality Committee will accuse you of being a collaborator. You will admit it, saying you were so hungry you couldn’t help yourself. You won’t fight it when they decide to shave your head.
Her mouth dropped in horror. “It’s a lie. I won’t do it.”
“There’s a group of comfort women visiting all the soldiers’ barracks in Manila. If you don’t accept your punishment, you will spend the rest of the war with them. I think the soldiers will like you better than the comfort girls. They don’t enjoy entertaining all the soldiers at one time. You do.”
But they forced me,” she said. “I had no choice.”
“You know better than anyone that there is no excuse for being a whore.”
“Tanya, You can’t do this,” she pleaded. “I’ll never be able to lift my head. It will ruin me.”
“Just like you ruined Ditzy. At least I didn’t kill your baby.”
“It was a Jap baby,” she said, her anger suddenly visible. “Proof that she is a whore and a collaborator. She doesn’t deserve to be among decent women.”
“Neither do you, anymore.”
I left, Nurse Baker’s pleas fading behind as I walked toward my room. I did not find the satisfaction in revenge I had hoped, and that was a disappointment. I was also troubled by the feelings that stirred in me seeing Nurse Baker repeatedly climaxing with a barrack’s full of soldiers. I was sure I wouldn’t like having all those men pawing at me, but the idea that I might be able to climax so many times was captivating. The next time I was with Rat Bastard, I would test my limits.
***
Ditzy remained unconsolable, and my visits with her were full of long silences. Her own wound was too deep for her to care about what happened to Nurse Baker the next day. I wanted to let her know the woman got some of what was coming to her, but I decided against telling Ditzy what she did to her baby. The scorn heaped on Nurse Baker even made me feel bad, and I wished I hadn’t been any part of it. It hadn’t helped Ditzy, or brought her baby back.
As I walked around the camp, there was lot of new activity by the soldiers who were bringing in vehicles, setting up artillery, and laying mines around the camp. Archie said there was a big fight coming, and the Japs were getting ready. Another guard had deserted, and the mood of the soldiers changed. They were more tense, quickly angered, and refused any swapi–changi. Rat Bastard instituted more frequent random searches looking for the radio, afraid the internees knew more about what was going in than he did.
The camp was descending into chaos. We still received our lugao twice a day, but there were never vegetables or corn any more, and people fought over everything. When they fought, the guards stepped in and beat them badly. Mamoto made it clear Rat Bastard had ordered the harsh treatment. When I showed up at his billet one midday, he sent me away. My disappointment was keen, even more so that Kiyoshi was absent from his usual post outside the door. I stopped coming when it became clear he would not allow me to visit again.
Air raids came every few hours, for little reason, it seemed. We had bombs fall close to the camp on several occasions, but no one had been injured, so some people began hiding out in the shanties so they wouldn’t have to crowd together in the buildings and sweat it out. Ditzy hid under the bed in Roger’s shanty with a scarf over her head so she didn’t have to see anyone.
I heaved a sigh when another air raid sounded, and I slowly started following the others. Most were ahead of me, and when I looked behind, I recognized the soldier shooing us along. He held his rifle in his hands instead of slung over his shoulder, and the bayonet was mounted. I walked backward trying to get him to show me his odd smile, but Kiyoshi’s face remained blank. We passed an alley leading down a row of shanties, empty now because of the air raid, and I turned while still backing up until I found one that was suitable. It had a platform for a bed with some covers spread about. I retreated inside to a far corner.
Kiyoshi peeked in, said something, and motioned for me to leave. I stayed until he approached, his bayonet pointing at me, and his look as menacing as he could manage with his child–like face. I shook my head, and he slung the rifle over his shoulder, and grabbed my hand, trying to get me to follow. I took his hand with both of mine, and sat on the bed, pulling for him to join me. He refused, then I stood on the bed and kissed him. He did not move a muscle until I had finished, then he hung his head. I helped him set the rifle down, undo his belt, and unbuttoned his pants. He resisted until I said, “Please, I promise not to laugh.” If he didn’t understand the words, I hoped he understood my meaning. He allowed me to pull his pants down, and I untied his fundoshi exposing his diminutive genitals. There was very little hair surrounding the area, and I kneeled down and gently kissed the wrinkled knot of skin.
I removed my dress and reclined on the bed, holding his hand until he removed the rest of his clothes and joined me. He was trembling with fear as he laid stiffly on his back. I kissed him again, then did as Rat Bastard had first done to me, kissed his thighs gently, and lovingly.
I worked my way upward until I could stick the tip of my tongue into the tube. There was something familiar inside; the cap with a small hole in the end. I licked it the same way Rat Bastard had licked me, and slowly it came out of the tube. As it did, I was able to get my lips around it, and suck. When it was good and stiff, I stopped to take a look. His finger–thick cock only poked out about two inches, but it was quite hard. I was proud of myself for bringing it out of hiding, and when I smiled at him, he looked relieved.
“You like?” he asked.
“I like,” I said, and I held his face in my hands and kissed his lips. They were sweet with the taste of bukayo. He certainly didn’t know how to respond to a kiss, so I tried to teach him what I had learned with my tongue. I flicked it rapidly in his mouth, teasing him, then I climbed onto his chest and positioned myself near his mouth. I flicked my tongue again to show him what I wanted, pointed to the spot between my legs, and slid myself onto his lips. He licked and flicked with remarkable adeptness, and I praised him and groaned to let him know I enjoyed it.
When I moved back, he smiled for the first time. I turned around on him to achieve another position I had learned from Rat Bastard, settled onto his mouth again, and faced his little cock, now upside down. It had shrunk again, so I sucked it back to life.
Went it was stiff, I went after it in earnest, quite enjoying my ability to take every bit of the little thing inside my mouth. I could even get his testicles and cock in my mouth at the same time. His concentration on me with his tongue faltered as he thrust upwards into my mouth with his hips. I felt his cream dribble into my mouth. The amount was slight, but the taste was excellent, and I swallowed it greedily, making a lot of noise as I did so to let him hear my delight. His rapid breath was hot between my legs, but he soon settled into licking me, and driving his tongue in as far as he could. It felt like he would have crawled in there, if he could. I rested on his plump thighs with his little cock in my mouth and he worked diligently until I felt the pins and needles envelope me.
I snuggled with him after, not sure why I enjoyed the half–man, half–boy so much. Perhaps because I was the one who taught him, or because he wanted nothing from me, or because there wasn’t a trace of meanness in him.
The raid lasted another hour, and I thought about trying to get his little cock in my ass, but doubted it was long enough to work for either of us. So I sucked the cream out of him one more time as we waited it out, then we went our separate ways.
***
The next morning turmoil erupted during first meal as Rat Bastard, Mamoto, and a contingent of soldiers marched from the barracks. A crowd of people followed, and their progress was relayed back to those of us in line. I paid little attention, since this was becoming a more frequent occurrence, until I heard they were in the Outback. Worried, I left my mother in line and ran as fast as I could. When I arrived, Archie was being dragged along the ground, and soldiers were trailing behind holding parts of the radio. Archie had been beaten, but was conscious, and proclaiming as he went by. “Don’t give up. MacArthur’s on his way.”
I followed, my stomach turning, until they reached the front gate where Archie was forced to begin the ‘sun treatment.’ It was a punishment used before for serious offenses, mostly for Filipinos. He was made to stand on a box facing into the sun. If the internee didn’t face the sun, he was beaten about the legs with bamboo. If he fell off the box, he was shot. A light punishment meant he was released at sundown. Moderate punishment meant he was released the next morning. If the punishment was severe, the soldiers waited until he teetered, then bet on how long he would last, pistol in hand.
Archie smiled as he looked into the sun. “No worries,” he said. “I could stand on my head if they wanted me to.” The crowd cheered, and Rat Bastard ordered the guards to send us all away. The commandant wouldn’t look at me.
The talk among the adults was that Nurse Baker had given Archie up as part of her cooperation. That seemed unlikely to me, as I had no reason to believe Nurse Baker would have known where the radio was, or who was holding it. It wasn’t a lucky guess, either, because the whole thing had happened so quickly they knew exactly where to look. I was the only one that could have provided that information, and I had never discussed Archie or the radio with anyone.
I grew more and more upset as the day progressed. At sundown, he was not released, and the word from the men who were watching with a pair of forbidden binoculars was that Archie was still on the box, but getting weaker. There was only one person I could talk to about it.
The night air in February, 1945 was temperate and still, so the blankets Ditzy had covered herself with were to wall herself off from others, not warmth. I brought her the last of my stash of dried fruit in hopes of cheering her up. She refused to eat.
“I told you would die of a broken heart,” she said when I told her what had happened to Archie. She wouldn’t hold me, but Ditzy laid her hand on mine as I cried.
Archie was my future, and I didn’t want to lose him. I passed the night fitfully, dozing, checking with the men who were watching how Archie was doing, and mulling over everything that had happened. In the morning I gave voice to one of my many questions. “Who could have turned him in?”
“That’s easy,” Ditzy said. “The other one.”
“The other one what?”
“Archie’s other girlfriend, the one before you. The Russian.” I realized that the night I saw her, Anna had been spying on me. She must have been jealous, and turned in Oscar and Archie.
I left to check on Archie. “Good old Archie,” they said. “He’s lasted longer than anyone else.” They let me look through the binoculars and he was slumped down, teetering, looking like he would fall any second. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I ran past internees lining up for the first meal toward the commandant’s billet. As I came down the path I saw the soldiers standing in formation at attention, and then they started checking their rifles and fixing bayonets. Kiyoshi saw me as I neared the steps, and he stood in front of me and made a cutting motion across his neck.
“I have to talk to him,” I said. “It’s important.”
He shook his head, pushed me back and made the gesture across his neck again. His eyes were filled with worry and sadness, and I knew he was trying to protect me, but I didn’t care. I leaped up the steps, and he swooped me around the waist with one arm, and carried me around to the corner of the building.
“No,” he said. “Vely bad. No go.”
He pressed me tight against the wall preventing me from moving. I was surprised at the strength of his hold, but I had to stop the Commandant from killing Archie, and I didn’t care what happened to me. I stopped struggling, Kiyoshi relaxed his grip, and we both took a breath. Slowly reaching my hands around his neck, I drew myself near, and kissed his fat, pink lips. His body responded by relaxing and tensing at the same time. It was enough to put him off balance, and I used the wall as a brace and pushed as hard as I could. Kiyoshi tumbled backward to the ground and I ran around and up the steps, and burst into the Commandant’s outer office.
Rat Bastard and Mamoto were standing at the desk reading over a document. Their heads jerked my way as I entered. Kiyoshi was right behind me and he grabbed my shoulder.
“Please don’t kill Archie,” I said. “I know all about the radio. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Please, you have to let him go.”
Rat Bastard glared at me, as livid as I had ever seen him. He said nothing but, jerked his arm out toward the bedroom, his finger pointing. Kiyoshi released me, and I went immediately inside and closed the door. I could hear them talking in Japanese as I quickly removed my dress and kneeled on the mat in front of the shrine. My only hope was to go through our ritual and try to talk him out of killing Archie. I despaired at the prospect, since he had shown no interest in me in over a week, but I would try my best, for Archie.
I turned back to him when the door opened. He turned back to Mamoto, and Kiyoshi at his side, gave an order solemnly, and entered, closing the door only partially. I faced away from him, put my head down and began speaking. “You have to let Archie go. I’ll do whatever you want. It can be like it used to be between us. I love fucking you, and you love fucking me, I know you do. I can see it in your face, and I want to see it again. Please let him go. You can pretend like I’m her, the one I remind you of. I can be like her, only I really do like you, and you don’t have to be more American for me to— ”
I felt the blade of his sword rest upon my shoulder and it gave me a start. Part of me thought this was good that we were doing what we used to do, but part of me was more afraid than I had ever been.
“You think you remind me of her,” he said. “but you forget, she was Japanese. You look nothing like her. You were alike only in your stupidity. So I will do to you what I did to her.” He dragged the edge of the sword across my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
“What did you do to her?”
“I borrowed my Uncle’s brand new Cadillac convertible and drove by her house. She was very impressed when I told her it was mine, and her family was away, so she was happy to go for a ride with me. You see, a pheasant is stupid and wants the food so much it doesn’t see the danger of the box. Just like you were stupid, and just like she was.”
“What did you do?”
“I did what one does to stupid animals. I twisted her neck until it broke. That is why I never went back to America.”
“Kill me if you want. But please don’t kill Archie.”
“You will all die,” he said. “No one will be spared.”
“Why?”
“The Americans are coming,” he said. “I have received orders to execute all prisoners of war, and fight to the last man.”
The pop, pop sound of rifles being fired could be heard through the billet window. I heard a scream, and then people yelling, and more shots. “What is that?”
“I have given the orders to Mamoto. They will all be dead shortly. I shall carry out your long delayed sentence of death myself.”
I heard the air sing as he withdrew the sword from my neck. As I realized this would be the last time I heard that sound, I felt a warm stream of water ease down my leg and puddle onto the mat, but I was too scared to cry. “I love you,” I said, and waited.
The noise of the sword falling to the wooden floor caused me to turn. Rat Bastard stood motionless, his mouth open but silent, his eyes empty, and then he fell forward, his face slamming against the floor with a crack. Blood dripped from the blade of Kiyoshi’s bayonet as he looked at his fallen commander. He turned his eyes to me, a slight smile shown on his babyish face.
I stood and hugged him, kissed him on the lips, and thanked him. Then I quickly pulled on my dress, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the door. There were more shots being fired, and the yelling was louder as we stepped outside and down the steps. I imagined all the people I had known these past three years being slaughtered, unable to defend themselves. I wanted to find my mother before the guards found her, and I hoped Kiyoshi would protect her, too.
A little ways down the path there was a soldier lying on the ground. As we approached, I recognized Mamoto’s face in the dirt, his back covered with blood. “Did you do this?” I asked, pointing to the bayonet at the end of his rifle, now slung over his shoulder.
He nodded, and I pulled to get him to follow, but he refused. “Come, Kiyoshi, please.”
He planted his feet, saying only, “Americans,” and pointed ahead. I looked past the middle of the camp toward the main gate. There was an American tank resting on the gate and a section of collapsed fence. American soldiers were streaming in behind the tank and spreading throughout the camp. I had imagined the sight a hundred times, and my heart swelled as I realized we were all going to have a future.
Some Japanese soldiers had been captured, and others seemed to haven taken cover in one of the buildings. I realized the yelling I had heard was the internees either cheering their arrival, or trying to stay out of the fire from what little resistance there was.
I tugged at his hand, and said, “It’s okay, Kiyoshi. I’ll tell them how you saved us.” He came along reluctantly as we entered the area near the food sheds. There were internees running, American soldiers trotting around and giving orders, and Japanese soldiers sitting on the ground with their hands held behind their heads. Several American soldiers were standing over them.
I had never seen an American soldier, and I was surprised by how big they were. Not just tall, but thick, and strong looking. One Japanese soldier stood and ran toward the fence. A shot rang out from an American’s rifle, and he fell.
I grabbed Kiyoshi’s hand tightly, and walked toward several American soldiers nearby. One of them turned to us and shouted, “Hey, let go of that little girl.” A shot rang out from another of them, and Kiyoshi’s hand slipped from mine as he fell.
“Oh, Kiyoshi.” I fell to my knees next to him, and held his cherub face in my hands looking for a sign of life in his eyes. There was none. My hands were covered in the blood from the wound in his neck, and my tears dripped onto his lips. A shadow drew over me, blocking the morning sun. I looked up to see the American soldier standing above, his rifle in his hand. “You okay?” he asked.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “He saved me. He saved all of us. He was one of the good Japs.”
The soldier sneered. “Don’t you know, little girl. The only good Jap, is a dead Jap.”
***
The arrival of the U.S. Army saved Archie, and he told and retold his stories about hiding the radio and keeping hope alive to every group of soldiers who would listen. I heard he got to meet MacArthur a few weeks later. He avoided me, though, wouldn’t look at me directly, and I never saw him again after we left Manilla.
Within four weeks we had arrived in San Francisco, and my mother and I departed the hospital ship feeling well–fed and healthy. My grandparents picked us up and we drove to their home in Monterey. My father was returned to us a month after the war ended in August. Most of what we experienced at Santo Tomas was suppressed in the celebration and the drive to make a future for ourselves. Neither of my parents ever spoke at length about the experience again. I found it impossible to describe what it was like to other kids, so I shut up about it, too.
When I graduated college I was able to find Ditzy living back East. She didn’t want to talk about the experience, either. She had married a nice Jewish boy who had watched his parents die in Auschwitz. Their experiences had taught them to accept each other’s tendency to gobble their food, have frequent nightmares and bouts of grief without requiring an explanation. They have six kids.
I corresponded briefly with Mrs. Blackwell after she returned to England to find her husband had died from a V2 bomb. Not surprisingly, she didn’t want to answer any questions about our time together. I heard Nurse Baker married and remained in the Philippines. The others internees are shadows in my mind.
Eventually, I married, and had two children. I have always impressed upon them, above all else, to not be mean. Sometimes, to entertain them, I would eat a bug, and smile at their horror and delight, without telling them how I acquired the skill. My sex life with my husband remains active, even at our advanced age. I am with him as I was with Rat Bastard, greedy and grasping for a climax. To his dismay, I have never put his cock in my mouth. I know it is a silly superstition, but it has never been worth the risk. I dream, though, of the Fat Soldier’s flood of cum, of Oscar’s hard squirts to the back of my throat, and of Kyoshi’s bukayo–flavored cream. I usually awake to the shudder of satisfaction when I swallow.
Tanya Robinson
Monterey, California
1991