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Monday, April 4, 2011

8.(17-18) Napoleon, at Guadalcanal?

Slim Novel 8 -http://adventuresofkimi.blogspot.com - See Homepage


17. Who is Survivor?
Waves up and down, up and down; sky lightening and, as sea-swell carries me at its peak, I see the Sun, fiery red, to the East. Muscles feel like knots, abdomen aches, breath comes in gasps. Fatigued so fatigued! Close eyes. Is it the end?

Have lost sense of time, am I dead? Imagine someone pulling me, rough hands throw me to hard floor then sounds gradually making sense.
   “Oi, Kimura! Open eyes, old boy, you ain't in hell yet, I still need you. Hey, open ‘em or back you go!”
   I am slapped hard. Lift lids: a face, pork chop whiskers, Fuji! He raises my head and holds cup of warm tea. It tastes better than best champagne.

Later, sit with him on deck of launch. He talks in usual staccato: “Classic ambush – Marines had Ichiki figured – incredibly simple fool – good riddance, bad rubbish!”
   He lights 5th cigarette, takes 3 puffs and throws it. “Kimura, you a survivor! Who a survivor? Survivor survive till he dive, ha, ha, ha! Don't get killed! Die in bed atop a Geisha, or below her if he prefers that perversion. Why survivor survive? Because coward. You and I survive. Only difference from the pack is I fool 'em all into believing me hero; you a writer and no one expects bravery there. ‘At’s why I like you!”
   He goes on to why Ichiki was sent on the massacred mission? “Hyakutake had no confidence in Ichiki; thought him a glory boy idjit. Good way to get military intelligence and to git rid a havin' Ichiki in his hair. So he sends him down the Slot with untried city troops. Brilliant! At one swoop, gets rid of boob and probes the Marines …” Fuji continues, I doze.

18. Napoleon at Guadalcanal?
I wake to Sun low on horizon and see launch turning the jetty at Rabaul. As we dock in tropical twilight I make out a black Packard, which, Fuji informs, is Hyakutake's personal car. I sit beside Fuji in rear as the car bumps along road at illegal speed chauffeured by an exquisite geisha in red-visor driver cap and kimono. Destination: yellow stucco beach house with angled white roof and outer wall of coral breccia stonework under high royal palm with feathery ballooning wide branch leaves plaintively sighing in beach breeze. Air is fresh with sea smell, the fragrance of dates from palm flowers and the geisha perfume.
   On the veranda, 2 tall geisha greet us. Fuji tells me they are his personal comforters. We follow into dressing room with attached sulfurated ocean pool and are bathed, shaved, coiffed, perfumed and clothed in fresh dress uniform with white-duck trousers. Fuji points to my right chest at new Guadalcanal service ribbon in pink and white. Grooming complete, we follow the geisha down a bamboo-floor corridor. The women stop at a white shoji paper wood frame sliding door, kneel one at each side, draw the panels apart and bow with brows touching floor.
  Fuji and I enter a spacious tatami room centered with low rectangular mahogany table at bend of which – our left – sits Hyakutake flanked by the generals. All are informal with tunics open at military collar. Hyakutake as befits his imperial pretensions sits on purple pillow with white chrysanthemum design. Bottles of Bavarian beer are all around on the table. From the relaxed vacant looks, the party has been on for hours. We come to attention. Fujii salutes smartly, I sloppily. The General Hyakutake motions us down and as we sit the ever-attentive geisha slip soft cushion under our descending derrieres.
   Fuji prefaces his report with admiring my bravery, saying when he came ashore I was demolishing a Marine machine gun placement with well placed grenade pitch and adding that when he ordered me to the launch I begged to be allowed to stay and die for the Emperor and I only consented to being rescued on being informed it is direct order from His Excellence. At that, Hyakutake looks pleased. 
   I report, saying the Yankee strength has been underestimated. Hyakutake's pleased expression disappears. He turns to Kawaguchi who, after twirling his right tip of Prussian mustache says “Excellence, the Yankee Monkee has got under our skin like biting flea but it is gratifying that Excellence has not allowed our main force to be sucked into trap. The Ichiki Brigade served to give intelligence of the enemy strength, location and tactics. Now I Seigen Kawaguchi with my 3,000 men will give Monkee a lesson in military art. Here is what I propose.” He lifts palm and a geisha prepared for it hands white rice paper scroll to unroll. On it is map of Guadalcanal, and Kawaguchi describes a 3-prong attack.
   Fuji whispers in my ear it is straight out of von Moltke's Manual of Warfare and was used by Napoleon at Austerlitz. Napoleon? At Guadalcanal?
   The meeting ends with approval. Over the next weeks troops will land on the north coast in small groups and build strength in the jungle east and west of the Ilu and Matanikau Rivers and near Mount Austen, cutting off the newly named Henderson Airfield from the interior and setting up the 3-prong action. And I, as Guadalcanal expert, shall be at Kawaguchi's right hand and Fujii will lead the combat.

Rest of month I write in bungalow and am loved by my gorgeous geisha.
   To read on now, click 8.19 Battle of Guadalcanal








                                    

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