8.19 Battle of Guadalcanal

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19. Battle of Guadalcanal

Late night on sleek destroyer nearing Taivu Point and beside me Kawaguchi in crisp white dress uniform and highly polished black boots looking the model of modern major general or more originally and aptly the positive paradigm of  a preposterous prick.

A portable elevator moves us down to waiting launch that brings us to a newly constructed beach dock. Fuji stands saluting. He preceded us by several days and is dressed in gray-green combat fatigues with grenades slung over left shoulder and across chest to belt. A pearl handle Luger pistol is in right side holster attached to bullet belt with silver bullets. Is he planning to fight Americans or werewolves?

  Fuji reports the Division is landed; all that remains is for Excellence to take command and lead us on to glorious victory. Kawaguchi is more interested in the crate of his full dress uniforms. He instructs Fuji to make sure it is delivered to his quarters with care so the uniforms will be in pristine pressed condition. He has had a battery-operated ice-maker brought from Tokyo to keep the air inside where the uniforms are stored cool and protect them from jungle rot. I gather he is thinking of looking impressive for accepting the surrender of the U.S. Marine Commandant.

   Orders given, the General raises his riding crop to acknowledge the salute and gets into car. As it disappears in cloud of dust Fuji says “You'd think the bastard was more interested in shining in high society than winning the Battle of Guadalcanal.”
   He claps my shoulder. “Good to see you again. Let’s get lost!” He mounts motorcycle and motions me onto rear. With arms encircling his waist in a holding-for-dear-life embrace I jolt up and down as the motorcycle tears away from the landing and travels high speed along bumpy beach. Glancing toward Taivu Point, I note dozens of tents dotting the shore.
   Soon we are at Fuji's tent with the Old Sarge, who stands attention outside and salutes as we go in. Entering is like a return to The Sheik, a movie whose images still thrall me. The tent's walls are a sea-green, and ceiling is white silk brocade draped to give Arabian Night effect. Outside is sweltering heat; within is cool and comfort thanks to slabs of ice that sit in small crates stacked along the tent's outer edge and replenished regularly. A low central table with cushions around it is the sole furniture.
   Fujii drops onto cushion and motions me to one across from him.

   “I apologize for no geisha, Kimura, but it's the best I can do under the bloody circumstances. Thank Goddess Amaterasu for Kawaguchi's ice machine.”

   He pulls a green wine bottle from ice bucket and starts working the cork. My reading French is rusty but I decipher Champagne of Bordeaux 1870. Better not mention it was the year Napoleon III lost his empire at Sedan.

   Topping 2 glasses with yellow bubbly he hands me one and raises the other: “The War! May it last ever more!” I ask him about his use of Battle of Guadalcanal. Does he really think this out-of-the-way skirmish will go down as a bona fide battle? That starts him: “Kimura, Guadalcanal is an instance where an unimportant spot neither side wants and not in the main line of battle becomes meeting place that tests the mettle of antagonists. Classical example is Gettysburg: Lee marching on wide sweep to encircle the Union capital and Meade after him; clash of outposts near Gettysburg in which neither side has any interest; major forces sucked into great pitched battle that tests wills of opposing sides and from which a loser will emerge shattered and inevitably defeated in the war.”

   “In present instance are we Yankee North or Confederate South?” I ask.

   “A potentially treasonous question, Kimura!  If I didn't know your history so well I’d think you spy to provoke me into an answer to get me arrested. The answer, Kimura is ‘Yankees are Yankees!’ Puzzle that out.” He talks on, I sleep.
   To read on, click 8.(20-22) Thermopylae at Guadalcanal