Amerika; Strikes Back! by Paul Lally

Author:Paul Lally [Lally, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-31T07:00:00+00:00

A little more than an hour later, within a mile of our destination, our ‘escort” fleet of canoes peeled off. Comforting thought to know that the guerilla fighters were heavily armed and would come to our aid if the Japs discovered us.

But, according to Gunny, the base had an almost non-existent guard setup. No surprise there, considering the island was thousands of miles away from the states. As far as Tokyo was concerned, America was still taking baby steps toward waging war – building planes, tanks, and ships but not fully engaged just yet.

Admiral Yamamoto had cautioned his fellow war lords that bombing Pearl Harbor would “awaken the sleeping giant.” And that had happened, for sure. Any wonder the Japanese wanted to act like Jack and the Beanstalk – steal the gold from the giant, race down the vine, and then blow it up with an H-bomb before the big guy ground their bones to make his bread.

I didn’t feel much like a giant at the moment, though, as Hek and I carefully slid the featherlight racing canoe free from its mounting brackets and lowered it into the water. Three of the war canoe paddlers lashed the fore and aft outrigger poles, to the canoe’s gunnels, while Hek and another paddler attached the outrigger float. Tony and Gunny climbed in first, with Gunny taking up position in the bow. I followed, then Hek, who would act as the paddler/steersman.

By comparison, the war canoe loomed beside our wisp of an outrigger canoe like a battleship – sail furled to minimize detection. When we were fully rigged, the elderly helmsmen gently tapped the hull – the signal for the paddlers to back full-astern, rotate their canoe away from the beach, and retreat to a rendezvous spot to await our return.

Hek said, “This is as far as he can go. Lots of shoals from here on out.”

“But the plane’s tied up there.”

Gunny said, “They dynamited a channel for it—ready Hek?”

“Full speed ahead,” he whispered.

Both men dug their streamlined paddles into the wave-less water. A good thing we had set off in the more wind-sheltered area of the bay, because our freeboard was just a few inches above the water. Our javelin-like Tahitian racing canoe wouldn’t last thirty seconds in the open ocean.

“What can Tony and I do?” I said.

Hek said, “Grab those gourds and start bailing.”

He was right, because seconds later an errant wave broke over the gunwale. Tony and I began the tedious, repetitious, but essential work of getting rid of an ocean that was determined to join us inside the canoe.

While we bailed and Hek and Gunny paddled, the Hawaiian prince-to-be said between strokes, “Protect us Hine-ke-ka… guide us true… keep your sacred waters… close to you.”

Gunny said, “Goddess or god?”

“Goddess.”

“Of what?”

“Canoe bailers.”

“Love your Hawaiian ladies. Think maybe I’ll settle down here after the war.”

“Need to win it first.”

“Affirmative your last, oh mighty prince.”

“Button your lip, Gunny, and dig in.”

We seemed to fly over the calm waters. If anyone was watching from shore, we’d be nearly invisible, so close were we to the water.

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