the ground. When he looked up, he saw that several buildings in Grover had been damaged and were on fire. Jesus, he thought, those were Jap ships and the Japs were shelling Grover. Why? What had the people of Grover done to deserve it?
More shrieking shells flew over him and landed in Grover. People spilled out of their homes and ran around, confused, terrified, and aimless. Fred lurched to his feet and watched as a number of them headed to the nearby Baptist church for what they might have thought was sanctuary. But that was a mistake as another shell hit it squarely, causing what could only have been incredible carnage inside. Outside, torn bodies littered the ground. Fred could hold it no longer. He threw up all over himself.
Fred regained control and took off for his home as fast as his legs would propel him. Others were heading out of town in cars, on bicycles, or, like him, just running like hell.
More shells struck around him. One of his neighbors grabbed Fred’s arm. His eyes were wide with terror. “What the hell’s going on, Fred?”
Fred pushed him away angrily. “How the hell would I know?” He had to find his family.
Finally he saw Maria and the two boys running toward him. At least she wouldn’t be mad at him right now unless she was blaming him for the disaster. She was wide-eyed with fear and the boys were crying uncontrollably. Maria threw herself into his arms and, sobbing, asked him what was happening and told him that she was terrified. Welcome to the club, Fred thought.
He grabbed her arm and she took the kids. They didn’t own a car so they would have to walk to get out of Grover. People from everywhere had the same idea and soon the two-lane dirt road that led inland toward the mountains was choked with people. Behind them, the bombardment continued then, as suddenly as it began, stopped. When he was certain it was safe to look back, Fred saw that the two Japanese warships had turned and were heading toward the horizon. Scores of buildings were on fire and the flames were beginning to spread. Unless somebody took charge, the town of Grover would be ashes in a very short while. However, it didn’t look like anybody was interested in fighting fires, only running.
“Where’s our fucking navy?” Fred raged. Maria tried to shush him, but she suddenly began screaming and swearing when she realized that their two-bedroom home was burning furiously. Everything they owned except the clothes on their backs was being consumed by flames. For once Fred was grateful that they rented instead of owned like Maria wanted.
Almost half an hour later, a dozen American fighters flew overhead and out to sea. “Where the fuck have you been?” Fred yelled impotently. “Where the fuck is Roosevelt and all the assholes who are supposed to protect us?” Before this, they had been poor, poor but proud. Now they were destitute. What would happen to them?
Long lines of people from Grover and other towns in the area headed inland toward what they hoped was safety. It was a regular exodus, Fred thought, or maybe it was like the newsreels of French civilians fleeing the Nazis. Where they would go and who would feed them, they didn’t know. Maria had stopped crying and hung onto his arm with grim determination. He commented about the French refugees, and she clutched his arm and asked him if they’d sunk to that level. Fred said he had no fucking idea but it sure looked like it. Maria didn’t chastise him for swearing in front of the boys, and she hadn’t said anything about the puke on his clothes. She was too busy crying again. Fred quietly decided that getting a job in a factory wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
CHAPTER 9
THREE AMERICAN PLANES HAD GONE DOWN IN THE ATTACK ON the Japanese facilities at Anchorage. The first had crashed near the city in a blaze of flames and the explosion of a bomb that hadn’t been released, which told Ruby and the others that finding survivors was highly unlikely.
The second one landed in the water a mile down Cook Inlet and was quickly surrounded by Japanese soldiers in small boats. As they watched from a prudent distance, the surviving crewmembers were becoming prisoners whose fate was grim. They were punched and shoved as they were thrown into the Japanese boats, heedless of any possible injuries they might have had. The enemy was furious at the attack that had left a number of Japanese soldiers dead and wounded, along with a score of small fires where the bombs had landed in their tent city. Helping the downed airmen was impossible. Their fate was in the hands of merciless Japanese.
The third PBY had gone down a couple of miles south of Anchorage and in dense woods. The plane was burning when they got there, but the wind was blowing a smoke plume low and away from the town. Ruby hoped the Japs couldn’t see it, at least not for a while.
When Ruby and the others arrived at the scene after some hard hiking, the Japanese hadn’t yet shown up. The plane, however, was a charred and smoldering skeleton, and the stench of burning flesh was heavy in the air. The surrounding trees had been scorched, but it had rained heavily recently, and a forest fire had not developed.
Two living crewmen had been pulled out by other quickly arriving civilians and were stretched out on the ground. Each appeared to have multiple fractures and cuts. Caring for them would be well beyond their capabilities, which didn’t go much past first aid. People were very self-sufficient in Alaska, but they couldn’t perform major surgery. Broken arms and legs would be splinted and cuts stitched, but anything more serious would be beyond them.
Ruby decided they would pack the two men onto makeshift litters and take them to the small fishing village of Valdez, a hundred miles south on Prince William Sound. From there, maybe they could find a boat that could take them south to Juneau, or perhaps even a plane could land on the small strip that served Valdez. Taking the road from Anchorage inland to the larger city of Fairbanks was doubtless a bad idea. The Japanese had likely already cut it.
She had a thought. If the Japs had the road, would they move inland to Fairbanks? It was less than three hundred miles between the two cities. After this raid, she didn’t think they’d sit still and wait to be clobbered again. The Japs didn’t look like they were ready to move out just yet, but that could change at any time.
The two wounded men were secured onto the litters and a small group of local men and women said they’d transport the men to Valdez. It would be a rough trip and the men would have to be carried. They were unconscious and she hoped they’d stay that way. She wondered if they’d survive.
After the bearers left, Ruby’s group returned to a lookout point from which they could see into Anchorage. A large number of Japanese soldiers was milling around an undamaged school building. She surmised that the American prisoners were being held inside and being interrogated. Having seen what the Japanese did to other prisoners, she pitied them. She wasn’t a particularly religious person, but this time she prayed for them. If nothing else, she wanted them to have a quick and merciful death, even though she didn’t think it would happen.
The Japanese would want revenge for the surprise bombing attack. What looked like a couple of hundred heavily guarded American civilians were also gathered to see Japanese justice. Closer inspection showed that the men in the crowd had been beaten and many of the women’s clothing had been ripped and torn leaving them in a state of semi-nudity. It was an obvious indication that they’d been sexually assaulted. Once again, Ruby was thankful that she’d decided to flee rather than run the risk of being a prisoner of the Japanese.
After about an hour, the door opened and a half dozen Americans were dragged outside and forced to kneel while an officer seemed to be screaming at them.
“He really looks pissed,” Perkins said.
“Shut up and keep taking pictures.”
Perkins was using a telescopic lens and Ruby was watching through a fine set of German binoculars her uncle had brought back as a souvenir of World War I. Ruby had the terrible feeling that she was going to regret that the picture they provided was so clear and so vivid.
The Japanese officer finished his harangue. She thought he might be the commander of all the Japanese forces from the way others deferred to him, but she had no way of being certain. She groaned when he unsheathed the long curved sword that officers carried. He waved it around in the air and his men cheered him, the sound carrying up to them.
The officer waved it a couple more times and then sent it slashing down on the neck of a kneeling American. The prisoner’s head was sent flying and blood gushed from the man’s trunk. His body continued to kneel for a