Shadows of War

off to check with their commander.

“Why are you so uptight?” asked Li.

By Wu’s light, the corporal had earned the right to question him by serving during the clandestine action two years before in Burma — but only just.

“Be thankful we don’t have their captain as our boss,” Wu told him.

“All officers are scum.”

“Most. Not Jing Yo.”

“Hmmmph. We’ll see.”

“He saved me from the truck,” said Ai Gua. “I think he’s a good commander.”

“That was his duty,” said Li. “As an officer. Besides, Granddaddy Wu would have grabbed you.”

“Most officers wouldn’t have rushed in,” said Wu. “They would have thought about it first.”

“He’s still young yet. We’ll see what happens when he’s a captain.”

* * *

Jing Yo took out his paper map as the troops began their sweep back toward the highway. The most galling thing about their mission wasn’t the fact that the plane probably hadn’t crashed anywhere near here; it was the fact that Colonel Sun moved them around completely at whim, changing plans that had been prepared months in advance simply because he wanted some friend in the antiaircraft artillery to get credit for shooting down the plane. That was Sun, always playing the politics of the situation, no matter what the costs to anyone else.

Jealousy.

Jing Yo took a slow breath, then hung his head, the reprimand of his mentors echoing in his head as loudly as if the monks were standing over him.

Jing Yo was jealous of Colonel Sun’s power. And as understandable as it might be, it was nonetheless an emotion that would cloud his judgment, keeping him from doing his duty.

He would do his duty. It was not his place to judge his superior officers. Doing so would make him just like Sergeant Fan.

Or worse, lead him down the path of dissolution, like the regular army captain.

Jing Yo swung to the south, moving among the regular army men, encouraging them as they walked. They were even less refined than the men whom he had been working with the past few days, though like them they were mostly poor farmers. Drafted from the northwest provinces and given a few weeks of rudimentary training, they were undoubtedly scared and awed by their task. Impressionable, they would follow even a bad leader — like their captain.

“Keep our eyes open, now!” he called as he walked up behind them. “Keep our separation. Good work, Sergeant. There, Private, stay alert! “

He walked back and forth across the line for the next hour, until finally the road was once more in sight. Jing Yo ordered the soldiers to rest, then called Colonel Sun to tell him that the search had not produced a downed plane.

“What are you doing up there still?” said Sun as soon as his communications man put him through. “The air force downed the plane to the east. Get your men back in the line.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Wait, Jing Yo — you have regular troops searching with you?”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Have them continue searching. Just in case. You get your men down to Lai Chau as planned. We’re making good time. We need to stay on schedule.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Josh felt both his anger and his hunger grow as the hours went on. In the meantime, it seemed as if all China were flooding over the border. Occasionally he caught glimpses of men on the tanks, but for the most part all he could see was gray and green steel passing. The engines drowned out any sounds he made himself; he felt almost invisible.

But he realized he was in grave danger when two men suddenly materialized a few yards from him. His attention had been fixed on the road to his left, and by the time he saw them push into the woods farther north on his right, they were too close for him to run.

He held his breath as they walked closer, then stopped. For a moment he thought they had spotted him. Then he realized they had only come to relieve themselves. As soon as they were done, they ran back toward the road.

Even as he retreated farther into the jungle, Josh berated himself — he could have tackled them for their guns. He had to start thinking long term if he was going to get back.

He had to get back. He was going to tell the world what the Chinese were doing.

It had been the Chinese who’d massacred the scientists and the village. Josh had realized it as he watched the tanks rolling. The Chinese had probably sent advance units in to make sure there would be no alarm or resistance. Their orders had undoubtedly been to kill anyone they found.

It was the only thing that made sense — even though it didn’t make sense at all. But what war did?

He had to get out. That meant he had to find a weapon.

Josh walked away from the road in as straight a line as he could manage. At times he heard small animals running through the brush as he approached, but he never saw any. Even the frogs seemed shy — they quickly leapt away as he approached, showing only glimpses of their legs.

The terrain ran uphill, and after about a half hour he began moving farther south to avoid the hardest climb. Finally he stopped to rest. Without planning to, he fell asleep against a tree.

A spider walking across his hand a few minutes later woke him up. He jumped, shaking his hand furiously, unnerved by the tickling sensation. Body shaking, he grabbed his arms, hugging his chest and looking around to get his bearings. Josh wasn’t ordinarily afraid of spiders, and when he finally got hold of himself he laughed — softly — mocking his fear.

Can’t eat spiders, he told himself, setting out again.

He’d gone about fifty yards, perhaps a little more, when he heard sounds in the jungle to his left. He couldn’t tell what was going on at first — the sounds were too faint. Then he saw brush moving in the distance. He started to back up. Thinking it was an animal coming toward him, he glanced around for something to use as a weapon — this might be a chance at food. He saw a rock about the size of his fist and grabbed it, then continued backward, perpendicular to the animal’s path.

What was it? Something green.

A man. A soldier.

Josh froze as he saw the rifle slung over the soldier’s shoulder. Slowly he sank to his haunches, watching as the man walked. He was about ten yards away, poking at the brush with a stick as he moved forward. His eyes were fixed on the ground in front of him.

Ten yards was close enough to be seen, but not close enough to attack the man with any guarantee of surprise. Josh remained where he was, willing the man past.

The man whacked at the large leaves in front of him. He was talking to himself, singing maybe, shaking his head, looking at the ground, only occasionally looking up to see where he was going.

Josh looked at the rock, still in his hand. One side was smooth; the other, jagged. It didn’t weigh very much.

He could come up behind the soldier, hit him on the head, take his gun, shoot him.

But there must be others. A soldier wouldn’t walk alone through the woods.

Josh remained still, seeing himself charging up behind the man. He heard something in the distance — another soldier, walking about ten yards farther south, calling to his companion.

The soldier who’d already passed kept moving without answering.

I can take one of them, Josh told himself. But not both.

The man called out again. He was walking on a diagonal, in Josh’s direction.

Maybe this was the man to take.

No. This one was more alert. He wasn’t hitting the brush with a stick. He kept looking around.