Rising Sun

The light dawned. “Is that why you came to Hawaii? Not just for the sailing and not just on a lark?”

“Partly,” she said and wiggled against him, arousing him even more. “The young man in question, and I will never tell you his name because you might want to challenge him to a duel, said he wanted to marry me and when I wouldn’t go to bed with him, told everyone I had. Then he spread it around that I had done some strange things with him. Look, there are a lot of people who do and that’s their business, but they keep it quiet. When he broadcast such lies, I felt like my reputation and trust had been destroyed.”

“People don’t want to believe the truth, do they?”

“Not when salacious tales are so much more fun. And there’s no way I could deny it. I tried, but people preferred to believe the more interesting lies. Tim, I’m no saint. A long ways from it in fact, but I do consider myself a private and discreet person.”

“Is that why we’re hiding behind a raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?”

“Absolutely,” she said and kissed him hungrily, teasing him with her tongue.

She pulled back and smiled. She slipped out of her top and guided his hands across her small and firm breasts. He hoisted her farther up, thankful for the ocean’s buoyancy, so he could kiss and nibble them. Her breasts were beautiful and delicious, tasting like salt water. She groaned with pleasure and let him shift the bottom of her suit so he could caress her even more intimately. After a few moments she groaned and shuddered, almost clawing at his shoulders.

She smiled tenderly and pulled his swim trunks town to midthigh. It was her turn to caress him, and she did until he climaxed.

“Who taught you to do that?” he asked.

She laughed softly and licked the inside of his ear. “You did. Just now.”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I know, Tim, and I love you too. Now let’s get dressed and go back in.”

“Can we come back?”

She grinned wickedly. “Perhaps later if I get hot.”

This trip with his men was much different from the earlier trip to California, thought Farris. Way back then, he’d been a total rookie with a cast of misfits under his command, along with an NCO who held him in contempt and a pair of drunks as company and battalion commanders.

Since then, he’d been promoted, given an understrength company to command, seen combat and felt that he’d grown immensely. That did not, however, make him pleased as the long column of trucks rattled north. Taking on the Japanese army in the woods of Alaska was quite frankly frightening. Since receiving word that they’d be heading north, both he and the new battalion commander had been driving the men hard. They’d worked on their marksmanship, their conditioning, and their ability to operate in dense woods as a unit.

They’d also watched with a mixture of sadness and relief as a fresh and innocent-looking unit took over what Stecher referred to as their beachfront property. Leaving was a little bittersweet for Farris. After all the time watching for enemy ships and complaining about being lonely, he’d finally met someone. He and Sandy Watson had hit it off. They’d promised to write and he wondered if he could finagle some telephone calls from up near the Arctic Circle. She’d let him kiss her a few times, but stopped him when he tried to go a little farther. “When you come back,” she’d told him.

Steve was delighted that Uncle Tim had found someone as nice as Amanda, although both he and Sandy had been amused by the fact that they’d gone behind that raft thinking no one would notice. Sandy insisted they really weren’t going to go all the way because Amanda had said they wouldn’t. They’d made jokes about all the splashing and waves coming from behind the raft. Amanda and Tim had gone out there three times during the afternoon. What the hell, let them all be happy, Steve thought. Let everyone be happy. There’s a war on and tomorrow everybody could be dead.

There had been other casualties before they set off. One company commander and three lieutenants had been shipped off either for being utterly incompetent, for toadying too much to the previous regime, or both. No loss was the consensus. They were going into combat and nobody wanted jerks commanding men.

They’d been issued cold-weather gear including flannel shirts, field jackets, and fur caps that, in Farris’s opinion, made them look like Cossacks. Stecher said that barbarians in training was more like it.

Even though it was still fall according to the calendar, the weather was noticeably colder the farther north they went and there was wet snow on the ground. Steve wondered how the Japs liked freezing. He felt they’d gotten their reputation as jungle fighters, not winter fighters. The major reminded them that the Japs had been fighting in China for years and north China was far from tropical. No matter. He hoped they all froze their little yellow asses off before the column got to Fairbanks.

This, Farris was told, was the road that was supposed to ultimately link the U.S. with Fairbanks. Instead of building a proper highway, the engineers were now concerned only with hurriedly blasting and bulldozing a way to get troops and equipment to where the fighting would soon be.

The muddy dirt road was so narrow that pine boughs slapped against the canvas-sided trucks and they could see down valleys and ravines that could kill them if the drivers lost control and sent them tumbling over the edge. Some of the bridges over rivers and bogs were well constructed, while others looked like they’d been slapped together. Worse, they creaked and swayed when the trucks crossed over them. It didn’t help their morale to be told that construction on the road would soon shut down. The miserable weather would require it.

When they paused for periodic breaks to stretch and relieve themselves, Farris saw that the scenery was both magnificent and frightening. It looked as if they were surrounded by mountains. He no longer had any thoughts of camping and fishing.

Farris was not happy to be told that the Japanese were reported to be within fifty miles of Fairbanks. He had no idea how many of the enemy there were, but one would be too many.

After what seemed like an eternity, the trucks stopped and they all piled out, looking around in confusion. They’d run out of road and would have to hoof it.

“How much farther to Fairbanks?” Farris asked a civilian engineer who was lounging against a bulldozer. A handful of Negro soldiers clustered around him. They all looked amused at the new arrivals.

The man stopped and thought for a moment. “I reckon maybe seven hundred miles.”

Farris gasped. “What?”

The engineer roared with laughter. “Gotcha, Lieutenant. It’s ten miles or so. Unless you guys are really out of shape, you’ll make it before nightfall.”

They did, even marching into camp in decent order. The commander, Colonel Gavin, greeted them, clearly delighted to see reinforcements. He shook Major Baylor’s hand and went around encouraging the men and shaking still more hands, including Steve’s. Farris was impressed by Gavin. Maybe they did stand a chance against the Jap army.

* * *

Masao Ikeda stood on the flight deck of the Kaga. He did not walk to the edge like others did. He was not afraid of heights when flying twenty thousand feet or more in his Zero, but there was something about hanging over the ocean that unsettled him. Being afraid of anything was unmanly, and admitting to something as simple as fear of heights would subject him to merciless teasing from his fellow pilots if they ever discovered it. Anytime he had to be near the edge, he always made sure that an antiaircraft battery was beneath him, providing an illusion of stabililty.

The wind was cold and refreshing as the Kaga, her smaller sister, the Shinyu, and the rest of their task force headed north. Masao was tired. In the last few days, he’d spent long hours cooped up in the cockpit of his fighter practicing the skills that would enable them to kill Americans and return safely. He sensed rather than saw that his friend Toki was standing behind him.

“How was your day?” Toki asked. “How well did your new pilots perform?”

Masao laughed harshly. “Like clowns in a circus. I cry for them when I think of them going up against the Americans. Of course, I know my commanders felt the same way when I first started out and look at me now.”

“Are you saying there’s hope for them?”

Masao lit a cigarette and drew deeply. He felt that smoking made him look more mature. He grinned genially. “Yes, just not much.” One new pilot had crashed after aborting a landing and was in sick bay with a broken leg and