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Strong Currents

By Delores Topliff

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Chapter 1
Mid-June 1942 – An unnamed island near Midway, the Central Pacific
Naval Seaman Apprentice Josh Vengeance drew a ragged breath. And another. Blackness ruled as the cosmic clock slowed. Time hung in the balance and almost ceased until Someone eased the ticking clock’s hands forward.
His lips parted as his tongue sought moisture, but only sand grains entered his mouth. Josh moaned. His head throbbed when he turned to spit out sand. One eyelid fluttered open and glimpsed a single grass stem with three tiny dry leaves. Small bugs tunneled throughout his ragged clothes and even into his ears. Droning mosquitoes attacked every inch of his body in precise formations.
Josh scrunched his eyes so he wouldn’t see. Rather than finding serenity, he relived the booming roars and bright flashes of torpedoes that fatally struck the USS Yorktown. Portions of deck buckled and broke away. Massive equipment shifted and crushed. Flames seared flesh as the mighty (CV-5) aircraft carrier went down. Bodies flailed and survivors swam through burning oily patches to get away.
Josh had expected to sink with it, but tumultuous waves carried him. He grabbed crewmate after crewmate attaching them to debris until the torn sheet metal slashed his hands so badly he couldn’t grip. Did any of the men survive? His aching eyes fluttered again. He remembered trying to dodge one monstrous piece of wreckage that smacked his head. How did he end up here?
Unknown time passed and light returned, spilling down the sky like boiling water. No waves rocked him now. Sand scorched his skin everywhere it touched. Scoured him and ebbed as water lapped his body and retreated—then lapped and ebbed again. He turned enough to taste water and spat, its salt closing his throat and burning external raw places.
Empty ocean tossed beyond—no land in sight. More water washed in. He must move or drown. Summoning every muscle’s last reserve he rolled face up, legs and back screaming.
But still, water claimed him again, tunneled the sand away underneath. He wasn’t getting anywhere on his own. More droning mosquitoes drilled every inch of his flesh in whining formation before louder buzzing filled the sky.
Battered and dazed, Josh tried sitting up, but his world lost its axis, and he fell back. A Japanese Zero swooped low. His elbows scrabbled beneath the hot sand to escape, but it was futile. Strafing bullets kicked up lines of grit as perfectly spaced as his mom’s sewing machine stitches. Bullets cross-stitched his legs, making blood spurt as he jerked and stilled.
I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.
Was this it? Tears came from greater inner pain. Annie. Why hadn’t he told her she mattered instead of leaving things vague? It was complicated. But she knew, didn’t she?
No, Lord. Not like this. Let me live to tell her.
The Zero swung back in a slow circle—dropped lower still. The pilot’s dark eyes peered at Josh. Lying helpless he prayed.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
He heard his Mom, “Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee …”
The Zero sprayed more bullets, zigzagging the sand, spitting grit into his wounds. After one more pass, its air whooshing like a charging lion’s near miss, it pulled up its wings and grew smaller.
Josh heard his dad recite his favorite closing scripture, “…The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”
Peace.
A harsh boom rattled across the island, returning Josh to the present. A fireball lit the sky as the plane tumbled down, its crash sending shock waves that vibrated the sand.
He must roll or crawl to safety. Instead he closed his eyes.
#
Josh yelped and his eyes snapped open. Something poked him. It nudged him harder, and a brown foot rested at eye level. The butt of a spear poked his ruined shoulder. When he grunted, the little man jumped back but his spear remained above Josh’s heart.
“Kshama tanga!”
The half-dressed man locked eyes with Josh. Two other small, tanned men stood a step back, faces fierce, their eyes white and menacing.
“I’m no threat.” Josh’s voice creaked like a rusty hinge.
The first man lowered his spear.
Relief cautiously mixed with fear Josh dared to ask. “Where am I?”
“Shama bataru!”
More excited voices chattered words he couldn’t understand. Not Japanese, but what? Natives? The men wore brief loin clothes over glowing skin. They clucked their tongues as gentle hands slid him across the sand like a loaded picnic tablecloth pulled to a new place without spilling a dish. The movement scraped away additional skin, but Josh was safe on higher ground. He faded as exhaustion claimed him.
The hungry bugs near shore had abandoned him for better hunting. Someone had brushed sand and dry grass blades over him to help block the blazing sun. A small man tipped Josh’s head back enough to dribble fresh water onto his tongue. An old woman pushed small bits of mashed banana into his mouth. Voices argued and then slid him inside a small rocky cave. Cooler. An elderly man stayed, dribbled more water into Josh’s mouth, massaged his throat until he swallowed. So thirsty.
Soon, the burning breeze carried shrill Japanese voices, making the native people scurry, only the gentle knobby man stayed, kicked more sand over Josh. Was he burying him? No, building a sand dune high enough to hide the small cave.
Boots marched past.
Dear God, I stink. Don’t let them smell me.
Harsh voices barked but kept going. The sand dune worked.
“If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me . . .”
Things quieted.
Several natives returned. Fed him more bits of soft, ripe fruits and fish. He slept.
More voices startled him awake. Americans?
“Peeyouu,” one said. “What’s that smell?”
“Smells like death. Look here.”
“Is he alive?”
“Not sure. He’s white. Injured, almost dead and buried like this.”
The unknown speakers kicked aside more sand and swept Josh’s body almost clear with their hands. Josh groaned at the rough treatment and opened his eyes.
“Buddy, you’re in rough shape.”
“Yup.” Josh rasped as he tried to focus on the two men. He shook with dry sobs as he noticed the men wore tropical khakis. US Army uniforms.
“Easy, fella. We’ve got you. Are those shreds of a Navy uniform?”
Josh nodded.
“From where?”
His vocal cords screeched from disuse. “USS York--”
“The Yorktown? Yea, she went down, but it’s been a while. How’d you get here?”
“Dunno. Drifted.”
“You’re nuts. There’s sharks out there. And debris on the beach, but it’s too small to carry you.” One soldier lifted his hat and finger-combed his crew cut. “I guess miracles still happen.”
“The locals—hid me.”
“From Japs? No kidding? And risked payback? Decent!”
The other soldier slipped outside and surveyed the cave’s surrounding area. “Look, Tex, he’s right. The prints out here are Japanese boot tread. Not bare feet or sandals.”
“Wow, close call.” The first man lifted Josh’s head to give more water from a canteen. “Look at you, you’ve had it rough. You even got shot up.”
“Helluva fight.”
His hand groped Josh’s neck. “Where are your dog tags?”
Josh reached up. “Dunno. Gone?”
“Do the native people have them?” They called the knobby man over. He gestured with empty hands.
“He doesn’t understand. Or doesn’t want to.”
Josh tried to stir but only managed to say. “Josh Vejenje, apprent seaman, 1287--”
“Good. Your uniform’s burned, but it looks like US Navy. If you’re from the Yorktown, you’ve been missing since Midway.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks give or take. You’re skin and bones.” This soldier pulled a chocolate bar from his shirt pocket, unwrapped the foil, and broke off a small portion for Josh to taste. “Don’t eat too much at first.”
It dissolved on his tongue. “Mmmm!”
“Here’s one more.”
The other asked, “Where can we take him?”
“Midway’s closest, except their hospital got bombed. Have the lieutenant radio to ask if they’re operational.”
“Hawaii’s best,” he said, “but their beds stay full and they’re a thousand miles away.”
“He can’t stay here. We have to move him.” Strong hands slid Josh onto a canvas tarp and then onto something mechanized and amphibious. Waves lapped as the vehicle entered the booming surf. After being rocked back and forth as they moved through waves, he was lifted onboard a ship. And finally, onto a small plane.
Dear Lord, Are You answering Mom and Dad’s prayers all at once? Alive after the shadow of death?
He choked down the lump in his throat.

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