The Queen of Shangri-La

It's the reason why I instinctively knew that Patsy was the girl for me, not beautiful Betty. And of course, dazzling Maggie was miles above Betty on the cosmic looks scale. Maggie was an odd blend of sex kitten and hard ass. She appeared to be willing to expertly fuck your brains out or kick your butt. Her sex appeal might've been a happy artifact. But the way she acted... that was who she was.

Everything about Maggie was sensual from her one-in-a-million face to the way she carried her exquisite little body. But underneath all of the sex-appeal, the real Maggie Hastings was a rebel and a tomboy. She had the natural swagger and feistiness of a bar fighter. And you got the impression that she wouldn't think twice about getting that beautiful face messed up in a fight.

The three of us were standing on the knoll, surveying the sunlit splendor of the Baliem valley, when we heard the engines of a B-17. We looked up and there it was - gleaming in the sun perhaps 1,000 feet above us. I dragged our bright yellow life raft further down the hill so it would be unmissable from the air, and we waved frantically. The plane waggled its wings to show that it had spotted us.

That set off a joyful celebration. We were saved!! Then I noticed something odd about the terrain. The ground was covered by sweet potato vines. Perhaps we were standing in the middle of a cultivated field? Even worse, in our haste to become visible, we had forgotten about the local cannibals. Out of the frying pan and into the fire!!

I heard the yelping of dogs and the buzz of human voices. My blood ran cold. It sounded like a large group of people was coming our way. The noise got closer, and suddenly we were surrounded by dozens of odd-looking little men whose only mode of dress was a penis gourd.

These were the Dani. They had lived a stone age existence since the dawn of time, in that beautiful and temperate valley, and it was rumored that there were tens of thousands of them. They had tamed fire, but they hadn't discovered the wheel yet. Their numbering system was one, two, three, and "many." Their headhunting and cannibalism were real. But fortunately, they only ate each other.

To my western eyes, they were incredibly ugly. They were mostly around Maggie's height or shorter - with oddly shaped disproportionately large heads, very prominent eyebrow ridges and a lot of hair. Their skin glistened with pig fat, and they stank. They stood in a solid phalanx, armed with spears, silently eyeing us.

The Dani had never seen people with white skin and they clearly didn't know what to make of us. I was told later that there was a legend among the Dani that spirits with long hair and light eyes would bring about the end of their world. We fit that description and in reality, that is exactly what came to pass. But that happened four decades later.

Maggie and Decker scrambled to their feet. I whispered under my breath "Smile!!" Maggie handed me the only food that we had among us, the box of Charms. We held our breath while the mob encircled us, jabbering in a language that was mostly clicks, whistles, and odd guttural grunting sounds.

Then a guy who was evidently the leader stepped forward. I could tell he was in charge because his penis gourd was a lot bigger than the rest. Nothing changes in the guy world. I was perhaps a foot and a half taller than he was. I stepped forward gingerly, trying not to loom over him, my arms spread wide in greeting, a huge smile plastered on my face.

I said as peaceably as I could, even though my heart was pounding, "We come as friends." He looked confused, like he was shocked that I made sounds. Then he reached out and began to feel the sleeve of my fatigue uniform. He looked puzzled. I learned later that he thought I was covered with mud, since the Dani don't have a concept of clothing.

I offered him a Charm, popping one in my mouth to show him what to do with it. He took it and did the same thing. His look of astonishment almost made me laugh. Amusement would have been fatal since the Dani wouldn't have known what the laughter meant and most of them were armed with wicked looking throwing spears.

I offered my hand, and the leader tentatively took it. Then I pumped it up and down in a sign of greeting. He made a noise of recognition and began to enthusiastically pump back. A black man who had never seen a white man and a white man, who'd never before encountered anybody like the man whose hand he was shaking, understood each other. And that was how the outside world met the Dani.

I made a helping gesture and then pointed at my two friends. Maggie couldn't stand up any longer. So, she was sitting back on the raft. Her long, beautiful legs were exposed, and the infected sores were evident. The leader gestured to me. Then he walked over, sat down, picked up Maggie's leg, and began blowing on it.

Maggie yelped, outraged. But I gave her a "just let him do it" gesture and she relaxed. I later learned that this was a highly personal Dani ceremony, which to them keeps the soul intact in the body. More importantly it was a sign to the others that we'd been accepted as new residents of Shangri-La.

But this Shangri-La wasn't a utopian paradise in the Himalayas. It was an isolated valley surrounded by an inaccessible jungle, as remote from our civilization as Mars. There had been some contact with the Baliem Valley in the past. Intrepid adventurers had described a place populated by savage headhunters who, when not making war, raised boars "as big as donkeys." That was where we were, now.

In fact, the Dani were more curious than hostile. We decided that we had to stay where we were, which was several hundred yards from their village. The obvious reason being that that particular place was where the search plane had seen us.

It wasn't a bad spot to set up camp. The climate itself was ideal and we had our raft and blankets The Dani brought us pork and sweet potatoes, which was the first food we'd had, besides a box of Charms, in almost fifty hours. Then they went back about their business, cultivating the field around us.

We sat silently, just eating, and processing the knowledge that we were still alive. We had been in survival mode the whole time after the crash, which narrows your vision to the moment that you're living in. Now we had the prospect of a future, and it takes time to change your psychic gears.

About an hour later, the reality of our rescue was reinforced by the sound of Twin Wasps - as a C-47 swept overhead. I could see the loadmaster in the door as he began to kick out crates that floated down into a field near the river running through the center of the valley. That was approximately a quarter mile from where we were standing. I waved at him, and he waved back.

I was the first person to get to the crates. Mags, who was supposed to be up on the hillock resting, wasn't far behind. And the Dani were all streaming down to see what the magical birds were.

Maggie's presence was fortunate because the C-47 was accompanied by two P-38 Lightnings... eight gunned terrors of the sky. The fellows in the Lightnings saw me running to the crates, with Maggie limping along behind me and a mob of curious Dani chasing us. Now... what would you think if you knew that those folks were headhunters?

So, our two lethal guardians lined up for a firing pass that would've pretty much depopulated that part of the Baliem Valley. It was going to be a grisly mistake, based entirely on ignorance. Maggie heard the P-38's engines rev, just like I did. And she reacted like the heroic woman that she was.

The tiny little thing zigged to her right and limped frantically over to place herself between the Dani and the oncoming fighters. Then she stood there unwavering, arms crossed, daring the P-38s to pull the trigger. They aborted and swooped over us -- point made. It was the bravest act I have ever witnessed.

Meanwhile, I was rifling through the crates that they had dropped. The Twentieth Century had arrived in the Stone Age. There were C-rations, sleeping bags, clean olive drab fatigues, an Armbruster wall tent, and more importantly a full medical kit. There was also an FM radio with enough batteries to power it for hours.

The Dani and I hauled our newfound wealth back up the hillock to our basecamp in the sweet potato field. They were laughing delightedly like the whole airdrop was a circus arranged for their entertainment. They had no idea what sort of catastrophe one valiant woman had just averted.

The first thing I did was bandage Maggie's wounds. There was antiseptic and sulphanilimade powder in the medical kit which I sprinkled on liberally before I wrapped those perfectly sculpted legs tipped by bright red toenails.

Maggie had been wearing her WAC uniform for the gala trip to Shangri-La, which was why her legs were so badly burned. The new clean fatigue pants provided much better protection. I did the same thing for Decker, antiseptic and sulfa powder. The wrap made him look like a mummy.

He had been wearing Maggie's silk unmentionables to staunch the blood that flowed from his grisly wound. Maggie's drawers were soaked in blood. But they had probably saved his life. The gash was down to the bone.

Decker's burns were as serious as Maggie's, but they were less infected because they weren't exposed like Maggie's had been. I applied a liberal sprinkling of the sulfa and wrapped what I could. The most concerning thing was Decker's broken arm. I didn't try to set the bone. But I put a field splint on it and he told me that the splint relieved the pain, a lot. He also changed into clean new fatigues.

It took me a long time to set up the tent, and - for god's sake - I'm a master mechanic. I couldn't have done it without Maggie's help. I laid out the tent materials, assembled the frame and installed one foot pole. Then Maggie and I draped the tent cover over the frame, and I installed the remaining foot pole. Finally, we had a roof over our head for the first time since the crash.

I spread our raft inside the tent as extra ground cover along with the sleeping bags. We had just had a meal of sweet potatoes and pork thanks to the Dani. But the D-rations had chocolate bars along with a pack of Old Gold cigarettes. Could life get any better!?

I didn't smoke but Maggie and Decker did, and they treated the cigarettes like a godsend. Apparently, those things are addictive. I ate a chocolate bar. It was a nostalgic reminder of home. Maggie told us that the bars were produced by the Hershey corporation, which was near where she was born.

The sun was setting, and Decker went into the tent to sleep. He was gravely injured, and he needed the rest. Maggie and I sat together while she had a final cigarette. We were savoring the situation. We had new, clean clothes, a tent and sleeping bags, along with the medication to treat Maggie's and Decker's burns. We even had a little Coleman lantern to see by. We were going to make it.

The two of us exchanged companionable glances. I said conversationally, "I misjudged you - and I'm sorry." Of course, Maggie snapped, "You'd better explain yourself Buster Brown!"

I laughed and said, "All the time that I've known you I thought that you were a dubiously moral and totally brainless party girl. Now that I've gotten to know you - the real you - I can see the tough, self-possessed, and genuinely caring person underneath all that camouflage. You've been a perfect comrade in arms Maggie Hastings."

Maggie reacted like I'd insulted her. So, I laughed and added, "And you're feisty too, Squirt."

She shrugged and said self-deprecatingly, "You'd be the way I am if you've lived the life I've led." Then she got a serious look on her face and said, "Well then... I guess I have a confession to make too."

I said fondly, "And what's that, my spirited little friend?"

She gave me an odd look and said, "Did you know that Laura was sweet on you?" Then she laughed like that was a stupid thing to say and added bitterly, "Of course you wouldn't - because you don't care about anybody but yourself."

That hurt... I thought we were friends. I sat there gawping at her.

She continued with, "I told Laura that you were an arrogant asshole. Somebody who liked to sit in judgement ... as if you were above us. But she wouldn't listen. She said that you were just shy."

I was astonished. I had no idea Laura was that insightful. Maggie said warily, "I told her that a guy who has four stripes and who looks like you couldn't be that innocent? By the way, just how old are you anyhow?"

I said, trying not to sound offended, "Twenty-two as of May 8th."

She said, "Okay, you're only a couple of years younger than I am. I wouldn't have guessed it. I mean, I was dumb like that when I was fourteen, not twenty-two."

That pissed me off. I said angrily, "I'm a Wisconsin farm boy. I'd never been anyplace except my little town until the draft yanked me out of my happy life and sent me to this shithole."

Then, I teared up a bit, which was embarrassing in front of an aggressive little bitch like Maggie, and added, "I lost my girl back home because I'm here. She was the only thing I cared about ... and yes -- I know I'm naive."

Maggie took a big drag on her cigarette, surprised. She looked at me evaluating and said, "You mean to tell me that you're the kind of hard working, church going, cliché that every girl in the world is looking for?"

I said, "I guess so -- whatever that means."

Maggie thought for a second. Then she mused under her breath, like it meant something to her, "I don't think I'm looking for that kind of guy." Then she brightened and said, "I bet you're even a virgin!"

I said proudly, "Of course I am." Maggie looked speechless.

I added, "Patsy and I were saving ourselves for our wedding night."

Maggie laughed uproariously and said, "Unbelievable!!... Laura told me about that. But I didn't believe her. So, tell me about this girl back home."

I said, "There's nothing to tell you about. Patsy was always my girl. We were going to get married. But she sent me a dear John letter. I really don't know why. Losing her knocked me for a loop. I thought she loved me."

I added bitterly, "It was Laura who dusted me off and put me back on my feet. I'll be forever grateful to her... By the way, who's Frederick?"

Maggie looked astounded. She said, "He was the love of Laura's life. He was killed on the Arizona at Pearl Harbor and that's why she joined the WACs. How the hell do you know who Frederick is!!?"

I said sadly, "Frederick,' was her last word. Maybe there IS another side."

Maggie's eyes filled with tears as she said with regret, "I hope they found each other."

I said, shyly, "I was sweet on Laura too. I was even working up the courage, to ask her to one of your legendary blanket parties."

Maggie laughed fondly and said, "You would have to do a lot more growing up before you qualified for one of those. But Laura might have taught you."

I said with tears in my voice, "I'll miss her kindness."

Maggie said quietly, "Me too."

That was it. We'd cemented the bond. We were friends. We sat companionably for a few more minutes, while Maggie finished her smoke and then we retreated back into the tent for the first good night's rest that I'd had since the day I got the letter.

*****

The next ten days were so unlikely that I still can't believe that they happened. Maggie, Decker, and I were stranded in paradise living next to a tribe of stone age savages who interacted with us like nosy neighbors. We communicated with gestures. But I got the impression that their language was so limited that the Dani were used to waving and pointing. Whatever the case, we definitely connected.

The people at Hollandia made almost daily airdrops of food and essentials. They also dropped a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Maggie and I went through that crate like locusts on the Kansas prairie. Even Decker, who was still not well, appreciated the mana from heaven. So, we kept ordering more.

The radio let us communicate with the planes overhead. Hence, we were able to listen to the funeral rites conducted above the crash site. The chaplain on board said a few words and they dropped 20 wooden crosses, plus one Star of David to mark the grave of the victims. Both Maggie and I shed a tear during the ceremony. I was gratified that Laura and Eleanor were memorialized.

Maggie did all of the communication with the flight crews overhead. She was an ATC radio operator at Hollandia. So, she knew the jargon. The sound of Maggie's firm clear voice coming in over the radio was the outside world's first introduction to her.

Maggie was a special person. The Dani had the undeserved reputation of being headhunters and cannibals. So, any woman I've ever known would've rightly been hiding in our tent. Not Maggie... she would regularly wander over to their village to exchange the stone age version of gossip and tea.

The Dani women made a fuss over Maggie. Everyone was about four feet tall, and their only fashion attire was a belt of palm fronds around their waist and pig fat, which they smeared liberally on their naked bodies. They couldn't stop touching and chattering about Maggie's clothes and hair -- all of it in the Dani's language. Maggie endured it with humor. Which was odd given her, "Do not touch," policy.

Once Hollandia had dropped some Ivory soap, Maggie would bathe in the lovely river pool at the foot of the village. Of course, when she waded out for a wash it was natural for her to leave her fatigues on the shore. The climate was temperate, and the Dani culture had no concept of Western modesty.

I would always hang around while Maggie was with the Dani. The Dani were friendly. But they were still an unknown entity and I wanted to make sure that Maggie was safe. I think she appreciated my presence because she kept throwing me cordial glances, instead of her usual, "back off," stare.

Of course, that also meant that I was in the neighborhood when she went for her bath. Maggie would slowly and sexily undress. I had only seen her in her ugly WAC uniform, which isn't flattering. So, I would've never guessed that such a voluptuous little doll was lurking beneath that horrible clothing.

Maggie's body was exquisite. She was a tiny woman, very slim. Her boobs weren't huge, but they were full and broad and placed high on her chest, with little pink nipples. Her waist was no more than twenty inches. It flared out to tight muscular hips that were fertile and womanly. When you factored in her marvelous round butt, Maggie Hastings was a goddess.

And let me stop you right there... I know what you're thinking, and I can assure you that there was no sexual tension between Maggie and me -- or for that matter, Maggie, and Decker. We were castaways who relied on each other for survival. That cooperation generated mutual respect, not lust. So, any of my comments about Maggie's body were just that - observations.

Maggie in her swimming hole looked like one of those water nymphs from the old Greek Mythology book that my grandma used to read to me. The Squirt would splash around for hours reveling in the cool water.

Meanwhile, a few of the local boys would sit on the high bank of the river and toss little rocks in her direction, which caused me some concern. I would have intervened more forcefully. But they didn't seem to be trying to hit her and they were just teenagers. Later, I was told that it was a Dani male's way of expressing sexual interest, like the wolf whistles guys do when a beautiful woman walks past.

As a way of distracting the boys - I sauntered over and said, "Do you fellows want to learn how to play baseball?" Two of them promptly took off... but the third cocked his head and said, "Bees-bl?" and added a couple of clicks at the end.