Left Behind

The beach today is as white and pristine as any other day. As I watch the waves lazily roll in and out, the sun sets on the horizon. The huge orange orb seems to sizzle as it sinks slowly into the ocean. The water is always calm this time of day, the breeze cools my skin. Lush green palm leaves waft above my head as I stare at the setting sun. This island paradise may be what dreams are made of, but I hate this fucking place.

There is no sign of the task force that left me, or I should say us, behind. I stare expectantly day after day with the same dejected results, nothing. That's what bothers me the most, the lack of motion and activity out there. If I could see just one ship, there would be hope. I could believe in rescue, if I could see one single solitary fucking boat. But they never come.

With the last of the available daylight, I make my way back to my adopted home. My hut is an abandoned radio shack amid the deserted Japanese bivouac. It's the one place that I can find hope so it is where I spend the lonely nights.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to relay to you the what, where and whys of my story. I'm Lieutenant Roger Burns, Doctor Burns actually, United States Navy. As a recent draftee, I didn't choose the Navy as a career. My title should guarantee some amount of respect, but it doesn't. As the junior medical officer on ship, I was relegated to passing aspirin and short arm duty.

Each day on the ship, I treated dozens of cases of nausea and seasickness. The marines would pass by me like so many cattle being sent to slaughter. I honestly can't remember any of the hundreds of faces I saw. I've been shit on, puked on and generally harangued. The senior staff made a habit of sending me every VD case that cropped up. I've seen enough cases of clap to last two lifetimes. None of this is to say I'm not a competent physician, I just am not a member of the club as it were, seemingly censured by my peers.

Our task force made a detour from our original destination. We were to stage an impromptu assault on a small out of the way island the Japanese had invaded some months before. The natives had simply disappeared into the night, leaving the Japanese to their own devices. Our objective was to take this island of little importance, not because we wanted it, but merely because the Japanese had it.

The marines hit the beaches in force. The resistance was remarkably light, the enemy had taken a page from the native book of war and the bulk of their forces slipped away into the night. The remaining troops were there to put up a token resistance at best. It was a suicide mission to remain, but they fought as best they could. Within a week the island was declared secure. The casualties were moderate and the admirals were all patting each others backs.

We had orders to set sail to our original course. We were to wash our hands of this speck of dust and move on. Young brave men had died on both sides and for what? Bragging rights I suppose. It strikes me as idiotic how old fat men in cushioned chairs can send young men, babies really, so easily to their death with so little guilt.

Being the low man on the totem pole, I was ordered to board the landing craft and take charge of the evacuation of the wounded that remained. My orders were to have every soul off that island by eighteen hundred hours. The convoy would sail with or with out us two hours later.

I took charge of what I considered a poorly choreographed cluster fuck. My priority was to assess the wounded and load them according to wound severity. Lieutenant Hathaway was sent to assist, probably her true mission was to make sure I didn't create my own SNAFU.

Things were going rather well, I actually felt like a real surgeon for the first time since I had donned the khaki uniform. Judy had the Beach Master's number and the stretchers began to clear away. It appeared that we would be at least an hour ahead of our original deadline.

Even then, I sensed coldness from Hathaway. At the time I wrote it off to devotion of duty. I'd known her from the several months we'd spent in Honolulu. Judy was a roommate of Cory's, a nurse that I'd dated. We'd joked and had a few laughs together when she'd tagged along with Cory and me. She was all business that day and I was too busy to worry about it then.

I'm not sure where he came from, but a tattered marine corporal was standing over me.

The marine said, "Sir," with a loud distinct voice.

I stood as the soldier on the stretcher was carried away. I looked at the man standing at attention before me. This guy looked like hell, "Are you wounded marine?" I asked.

"No Sir, are you a doctor?" he rasped.

"Yes corporal, I am. Why aren't you..."

He interrupted, "Come with me Sir, My sergeant is wounded," he said.

Hathaway had come to tell me something as I said, "Let me get a medic for you."

"No Sir, he's hurt bad. He needs a doctor so you're coming with me," the look in his eyes told me he was serious.

Hathaway got right up in his face, "What kind of shit are you trying to pull marine?" she barked like a drill sergeant.

The man slid the barrel of his M1 carbine under her chin, "Is she a nurse?" I nodded, "She goes too," he said.

I wasn't about to die and I had absolutely no delusions about disarming this determined man. By the look on Hathaway's face, I could tell see was considering it and would more than likely get us both killed. With gentle flick of the wrist, Judy was shoved forward at least ten feet. The power in this man's arm and the rifle he held convinced her that we would do it his way.

He directed us over the dunes at the edge of the beach. We walked single file with Judy in the lead. The path led up the hill, we walked the meandering trail in silence. After climbing steadily upward for about forty minutes, I started to hear a wheeze from the man behind me. I looked back toward him and he shoved me hard with both hands.

I checked my watch from time to time, even if we started back now we would be cutting it close.

"Judy, what time you got?" I asked to get a dialogue flowing with out directing it at the marine.

"Fifteen thirty," she answered.

"That gives us about two and a half hours," I said.

"Shut up, both of you," he wheezed.

"If we don't get back we'll miss the ship," Judy said.

"Keep walking, we're almost there," he said, his voice breaking.

The marine obviously didn't care if we were stranded or not, he had one thing on his mind. A few minutes later we reached the mouth of a cave. Just inside was a body, blood soaked from the waist down. I hurriedly checked for a pulse, it was weak and thready.

"Judy, get in here," I ordered, "He has a pulse but it's very weak. I need you to cut off his pants, hurry."

I opened my aid kit as Judy dug for scissors in her bag. She was tearing away at the heavy fabric as I found a scalpel and the vascular clamp I needed, bleeding as severe as this could only be from a femoral artery. There was no time to do a clean sterile job now, this would be like the butcher shop I worked at in high school, and speed was money.

Judy held the flashlight as I sliced into the man's thigh. The damage from the bullet was horrendous. I felt like I was digging for a shoelace in warm hamburger. I finally found what I was looking for, a large spurting artery. Judy passed me the clamp. I took a deep breath as the device clicked shut. I packed off the wound, If this man lived he undoubtedly would do it with only one leg.

I walked out to face the corporal, my fear of him was all but gone now. The adrenaline high I was on canceled the marine's threat to Judy and me. When I saw him the rush was suddenly over, there was no opportunity to read the riot act to our captor. He was sprawled at the mouth of the cave... dead.

I confirmed what I already knew, he had been wounded. I'd heard the telltale wheezing, I could only guess it was a collapsed lung. Under his shirt, someone had bandaged the hole in his chest. I said a silent prayer as I kneeled over his dead body.

Judy walked up behind me, "I'm sorry Roger, he didn't make it."

The loss of blood was too great, the delay in medical attention was too long. Two dead brave men, one dying to save the other. I would have cried if there had been time. Judy and I were faced with another challenge, an hour and a half to find our way back to the beach and catch the last transport.

We ran when we could, I felt pretty low for leaving those marines behind. I helped Judy when she stumbled, she seemed to give a shit less whether I made it or not. Again, I had no time to find out why. We were in a race for our lives, I checked my watch. It would be close but we should make it, we had to make it.

At seventeen forty hours we topped the crest above the beach. We both were gasping for air... The beach was deserted. We were screwed, we were so screwed. With the commotion of all the newly arriving soldiers and wounded on the ship, it would be hours, maybe days before we were listed as missing.

I fell to my knees in exhaustion or maybe it was desperation. Hathaway was bent at the waist, hands on her knees and sobbing. Although we both knew we were in trouble, the reality of the situation and the enormity of our plight had not completely sunk in... yet.

We were both trained professionals, but only suited to the white walls of a sterile environment. How on earth were we supposed to survive this place? What would we eat? Where would we sleep? Not to mention the look that Judy had just given me. How would I prevent her from killing me?

From that moment on she laid the silent treatment on me thicker than peanut butter. I decided it was time to find out just what species of insect had crawled up her ass. What else did I have but time? Hathaway wouldn't budge, she had no interest in communicating with me in any form. Believe me, being alone would be anguish enough, but being stranded with woman that hates the sight of you is torture. You are constantly being watched. Each and every move you make is scrutinized with disdain.

I knew that darkness would be upon us soon. I'm no boy scout, but I'm at the very least practical. I needed to see what resources were available to us. Hathaway's anger toward me must have been less than the fear of being left alone, she followed me. We found the Japanese encampment a short walk to the east.

As luck would have it, they had left most of their provisions behind. We found most anything you could possibly want, that is of course if 'you' were Japanese. As darkness fell, I lit a small bonfire in the center of the camp. We spent a romantic evening around the crackling blaze. Judy ignored me and I got tanked on a bottle of sake`.

The next morning, I stumbled to the beach. No ships yet, I felt dejected but at the time I had no grasp of what despair really was. That all would come later after many months of wishing and hoping, I would learn the true meaning of the word.

I felt the need to do something to expedite our rescue, but what? With the sun up, it seemed like a good time to explore the supplies and take a mental inventory. One of the first things I found reminded me of something I needed to take care of. A shovel changed my list of priorities. I slung the shovel over my shoulder, collected a canteen of water and began the long arduous walk up the mountain. I doubted that the two dead marines cared about what I was doing but it mattered to me.

I'd never been to many funerals, but I said a few word just the same. It was late afternoon when I arrived back at camp. It had been a long, dirty, tiring day but I felt satisfaction.

The next day, I discovered what would become my home. The abandoned radio shack was a shambles. The radio had been hammered but didn't look totally destroyed. I spent a full day cleaning and getting the spare parts organized. I obviously couldn't read Japanese, so I matched the symbols as you would in a child's game. I knew the task of rebuilding the radio would be daunting. It was akin to a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces were the same size and color. Trying each tube in each socket could take months, perhaps years. It occurred to me that time was of no consequence, time was definitely something I had in abundance.

By the end of the first month on the island, I fell into a routine. I would wake up to Judy ignoring me, then I would fish. In the afternoon, Judy would ignore me, I would fetch fresh water from the pond. I would spend the evenings ignoring Judy and work on the radio. At times I would write in my journal, I had done so since learning to write as a boy.

Judy had her routines also, she would spend hours walking the beach. On occasion she would travel to the pond. I never followed her there, but assumed that she swam in the cool water or showered in the small waterfall. Silently and with no formal agreement, I would supply Judy with fresh seafood. She in turn would always have the fire ready in the evenings and cook rice or some other canned delicacy.

Some days on the walk to retrieve fresh water, I had the eerie feeling that I was being watched. I never heard or saw anyone, but I couldn't shake the feeling. I never bothered to mention it to Judy, I feared it would unduly upset her and for the other obvious reason. Maybe it was the jungle watching me, I may just be paranoid or my mind was playing tricks on me. I kept watching and listening just the same.

One day I broke the routine. I had more than enough fish for the day in less than fifteen minutes. It was still very early and I decided to make the trek to the pond. As always, I could hear the crash of the waterfall as the water pounded the rocks behind the small pond. To my great surprise and my greater pleasure, Judy was there. She was kneeling at the pond washing her clothes. As you may or may not imagine, neither of us had any extra clothes. That should explain my great pleasure.

I watched Judy's darkly tanned body scrub her clothing. Those walks on the beach must have been in the nude by the lack of tan lines on her. The time we'd spent on the island had tanned and toned both our bodies, but I wasn't really thinking about my own just then. I stood in awe watching the veritable goddess. I can honestly say that I hadn't noticed the change in her since we been on the island.

Her hair had grown longer and was loose down her back. The usual way she kept it pulled tight or under her cap was now forgotten. The contrast of her brown skin and her now long blonde hair took my breath away. As a doctor, I'd seen many nude women. I'd even seen Judy nude when I gave the nurses physicals, but I'd never even in my wildest imagination seen a woman like this.

My fantasies were cut short though as I caught a movement in the undergrowth to my right. I barely moved, I turned my head slowly. I noticed the rifle first, now pointing in Hathaway's direction. The Japanese soldier had just snapped the bolt closed and was taking careful aim at Judy's nude form. Why now? I couldn't even fathom the chances of me being there at this very moment in time.

I sprung without thinking and brought the water bucket down on his head before he pulled the trigger. The wooden bucket shattered as the soldier was momentarily stunned. I was on top of him before he could react. My greater size would be my sole advantage.

The shock and surprise was now gone as we struggled for supremacy. I was sure if he got to his feet that he would easily kill me. I caught a glimpse of a knife blade as it flashed in the sun. The terror of what might happen came rushing to the surface as I wrapped my forearm around his neck. I was on top and behind him, I let my weight crush down, pinning him facedown into the black volcanic soil.

Medically speaking, suffocation is not a particularly quick or painless way to die. I tightened my arm around his neck. The struggle diminished with each passing second. I could feel him quiver beneath me as I continued the slow agonizing wait for his eventual death. As a doctor, I was repulsed. I had taken an oath to do no harm. As a man, I was glad it was him not me.

Hathaway was gone when I finally stood and caught my breath. I found her wet and shivering by the fire, she would not look at me. Without a word, I took the shovel and walked slowly toward the pond. I held no malice for the dead man. He was a soldier, stranded and alone just the same as me. I had killed for survival not hate.

The sake` seemed an appropriate end to the day, my duel persona both drank. Dr. Burns drank to forget the awful betrayal of his oath. Roger Burns drank in celebration, not to revel in his victory, but rather the fact he was still alive.

An hour or so later, I was well past the celebration. I continued to drink and it wasn't because I enjoyed the taste. I was numb, I wanted to feel nothing. The fermented rice wine relieved the pain, washed away fear, and dulled the loneliness. I almost didn't hear the soft rap on the door of my hut.

"I wonder who that could be." I thought to myself. It made me laugh. I didn't laugh because the joke was funny, I laughed from the irony.

"Roger, may I come in?" Judy whispered.

"Go away," I yelled.

"Roger, please, I need to talk with you," she begged.

I staggered to my feet, the sake` had taken its toll. I flung the door back nearly taking it off the hinges, "Lieutenant, I'm in no mood to put up with your shit right now so just go and leave me the fuck alone," I slurred.

I stumbled past Hathaway making my way to the nearest clump of foliage. I never could hold my liquor well and that night was no exception. Judy followed behind me and was standing off to the side when I spewed the contents of my stomach. It was crude and violent, I heaved until I trembled with exhaustion.

Judy guided me toward the fire pit in the center of camp. She cooled my head with a damp rag. I was out of it for the most part and let her sooth me. I awoke a few hours later with my head in her lap, I was still drunk and more than a little queasy.

"Just lie still," she whispered, still mopping my brow. I was really in no condition to argue, and the cool cloth felt good. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

My eyes opened slowly to the rising sun, I was cold and alone. Had I dreamed of Judy being civil? Was it my imagination that she wanted to communicate?

"Here, drink this," she said, handing me a cup of steaming tea.

I sipped the hot liquid, it warmed me instantly from the inside, "Thank you," I whispered.

She sensed it would be wise to allow my body to adjust to sobriety before we talked. We sat silently by the glowing coals of last night's fire. Judy watched me pensively, waiting, watching. It was apparent even through my fog that she had something important on her mind.

I'm not really sure if it was out of spite or my hangover, but I stood and walked away. She was the one that had shut me out all these weeks, she could sweat for a change. I had no desire to talk at the moment.

I was confused at the sudden turnaround in Hathaway, what possibly could have changed her mind overnight? Searching my memories, I couldn't even come up with a reason for her to be so cold in the first place. Why was it important now, after receiving the silent treatment for all these many weeks?

Maybe it was my soft nature, or simple curiosity, but after a swim to clear my head I returned to face the music.

"It's your show Judy, you wanted to talk," I said.

She hesitated, "Roger... I really don't know where to start. I've been so stubborn and childish toward you... I can't tell you how sorry I am," she blushed.

"I don't understand Judy, I mean, what did I do? Why were you so hostile? Are you blaming me for being here? What is it?" I asked, with my voice rising with each question.

Her shoulder slumped, "It all started... God, I don't even know how to begin to explain this... It started with Cory," she said.