Monday, April 20, 2015
The Lost Soldiers of Nan Nang A Doctor Watson Story by John Pirillo
The Lost Soldiers of Nan Nang
A Doctor Watson Story
by John Pirillo
Sergeant John Watson was a crack shot and never missed a
target, but that day he missed more than once. He couldn't put his mind on his
fighting for some reason unknown to him as he sighted down the barrel of his
Langley 251, a modified, rifle capable of firing an amazing four rounds by rapidly
winding its gear at the shoulder. It handled like one of those new cannon
models that fired fifty rounds of heavy caliber bullets that when they impacted
could shatter a solid brick wall, not that there were any where he was
fighting.
A young man with great expectations for the future, he had
entered the ranks of the Queen Mary of Scots Soldier Battalion as a medic, and
had rapidly assumed battle positions as the men in his team mysteriously
dropped like flies during the night, with no explanation of what had killed
them.
He was sweating bullets in the morning sun. It was hot. Very
hot. This part of the China Isles was closest to the Tropical Equator, and the
average temperature on a good day was in the nineties. This was not an average
day at all. It was bloody hot as hell he thought to himself, stroking his
forehead with the back of his hand to clear dripping sweat from oozing into his
eyes and ruining his sight through the scope of his Langley.
"Watson, how's the front?" Demanded Captain
Webbles from his makeshift cot in the trench Watson stood in. A trench filled
with squirming insects, mud and feces as the soldiers had no way to relieve
themselves above the ground because of the danger of being caught with their
pants down. Literally.
The natives had no respect for a man with needs. But then,
he thought grimly, neither did they. He had seen two of the privates of his
company break into a small temple of the Buddha Sun, a variation on Buddha that
the natives of Nan Nang worshipped. He was supposedly able to manifest in the
body of an animal and bring revenge or rewards to those who opposed or were
loyal to him. Personally, Watson, still a naive young man in many ways, didn't
believe in avenging gods, but he thoroughly believed in avenging
devils...usually men of dark purposes who used magic or science to destroy
their opponents or subjugate them, which was a big portion of why the present
war continued despite their side carrying such huge losses.
He had come into Nan Nang's dripping wet tropical forests with
a battalion of almost a thousand battle hardened soldiers, which had over the
last few days been whittled down to several platoons of about fifteen in each,
if you counted the wounded and near to dying.
It was a miserable bloody day and a doubly damned bloody
war!
He swiped at the sweat again.
"Nothing." He finally answered Captain Webbles.
"Harrison." He called out to his right.
A slim older man of twenty-six turned to look at him,
keeping his head ducked low as he did, lowering his own Langley to keep it
safe. "Yeah?"
"See to the Captain!"
"Right on!" Harrison announced, dropping lower in
the trench, seeking the only water they had, seated on a slight rise of filth
in a thick leather flask. He grabbed it and hunch-backed to the Captain, who
was obviously in great pain, but tried to hide it behind a greeting smile.
"Harrison, any news?"
Harrison and the others knew there was no good news, so to
keep up the Captain's spirits, he was delirious most of the time, he nodded.
"Aye, somewhat. Here!"
He offered the water to the Captain, who gratefully drank a
few sips, then pushed the flask away. "Save some for yourselves,
Private."
"Plenty enough for all of us. Drink up, Cap."
The Captain looked him square in the eyes. "When I'm
gone you make sure that Nanny gets my letter."
Harrison waved off the words. "You're goin' no wheres,
Cap. So I'll be needing to take nothing of yours anywhere, 'cepting your
baggage, of course."
The Captain gave him a weak smile. Harrison was his aide,
and carried all the war documents and battle plans, as well as equipment for
deciphering, none of which mattered at the moment, and explained the baggage
being half buried under a collapsed trench wall behind them.
"Nanny will want to read my last words."
Harrison waved off the words again with a joke. "Look,
Capt. The only thing your Nanny will be reading you is the riot, if you don't
get your arse back together soon."
The Captain chuckled lightly a moment, his face brightening.
"Yay. She would do that now, wouldn't she? She's a good woman, my Nanny. A
very good..."
He made a sudden grimace and cried out, causing Watson to
look away from the battlefield. Harrison looked over at him, and then
hunch-backed to his place as Watson set his rifle down, then did the same back
to the Captain, who was now struggling to stand up.
"Help me up, Watson!"
Watson tried to get him back on the cot, but the Captain was
out of his mind with fever and pain. He grabbed Watson by his collars and
screamed in his face. "You must! I won't lay here and die like a stuck pork
for a barbecue."
Watson, at that very moment, saw a light in the Captain's
eyes. A fading light.
"Very well, Captain."
He helped the man stand up, with Harrison and the other
platoon members watching now, all knowing in their heart of hearts what was next.
"See. Everything's calm out there." Watson
declared, sweeping a hand across the view in front of them.
The Captain nodded. "Very good, Sergeant. See to the
men's rations. I'll be seeing Nanny in a few hours, and I must get dressed
properly."
He struggled free from Watson and began straightening his
clothing. He smiled weakly as he did so. "Must look proper for the old
lady, you know."
"That I do." Watson declared, even though he had
no one special in his life at that time.
"You're a good laddie." The Captain announced
unexpectedly, tapping Watson warmly on his chest. "I will name my first
son after you, John."
"I suspect you will, sir."
"And he shall be seated on your knee at Christmas, and
mine as well. I insist on you joining us for dinner tonight."
"I gladly accept, sir."
The Captain smiled brightly, and then turned to look to his
right. "There she comes now. My Nanny."
Watson turned that way and saw nothing at first, and then he
saw something wispy in the air, glowing a soft white.
"She is so beautiful in white." The Captain said
with pride. "I love her so much."
"And she loves you as well, Captain."
He turned back to Watson and smiled gratefully.
"Someday you will be a great man, John Watson.
Now, I must be on my way.
Be sure to dress properly for our Christmas dinner."
"Do take this as my present. I'm sorry I couldn't wrap
it."
Watson watched as the Captain slipped a cross from his
pocket and handed it to him. "Don't lose it. It will bring you good
luck."
"I will not forget, sir."
"Farewell."
The Captain shut his eyes for a moment, and then reopened
them. "It's so beautiful. So bloody blessed beautiful."
Then he fell into Watson's arms and slumped against him,
almost throwing him into the mud of the trench.
Watson felt his face begin to crinkle as the stress of the
weeks and the death and dying caught up with him, and then as he laid the
Captain gently back down on his cot and shut his still open eyes, he said.
"God rest you, for God knows you got no rest here, Captain."
The men of the platoon gathered around the Captain and began
to sing a Christmas song, "Peace on Earth."
And for the first time in days no one died in the trenches
they occupied. For death had visited and
claimed its guest for the day and sought no more.
Watson sat down and put his face in his hands and wept. Wept
for himself, his friends, and all the souls who had perished around him.
Someday, if he survived, he would remember this place and be grateful to be
alive, to have the chance to help others without fear of death. But right now,
that moment, he felt the weight of the lost souls about him, the death and the
dying, the burden of carrying on when it appeared to be a useless battle and a
useless war.
He clenched his fists and wiped at his cheeks and eyes.
The other men continued to sing the song, and he rose among
them, and they all clasped arms and shoulders and put their hearts into the
song and across the delta of Nan Nang, creatures stopped calling to each other,
natives rose to listen in wonder as the most beautiful song they had ever heard,
arose like the voices of angels, bringing comfort and some relief from the
darkness of those times.
Watson just stopped once and turned and as he did he caught
a glimpse of something rising from the Captain's prone body. It looked like the
Captain. He waved at Watson and smiled, then turned to face a woman, Watson
guessed Nanny, and joined her. Together they climbed the trench wall and walked
across the delta as a white mist gathered before them, enveloped them in white
light and swept them away.
Watson nodded. The Captain would at last be able to be with
his wife, who had died a year earlier. "God be with you both!" Watson
whispered gently as the white light vanished. "God be with us all!"
Then he turned back to his men. For that was the case now.
He turned back and lifted his voice with theirs, sharing what little comfort he
could find for them in this moment of camaraderie and sharing.
Robinson Crusoe of Clipper Island Chapter 8 The Jaws of the Beast 1936
Mala is a Polynesian spy in the employ of U.S. Intelligence investigates sabotage on Clipper Island. A gang of spies causes the eruption of a volcano, for which our hero is blamed. He convinces the local Princess Melani of his innocence and helps her ward off a takeover by rival high priest Porotu.
SURROUNDED BY DEVIL-SHARKS...HEMMED IN BY A BAND OF KILLERS ON AN ISLAND OF FEAR...WHO DARES DEFY THE GODS OF THE JUNGLE TO WIPE OUT THE NEW RADIO MENACE! (original ad - all caps)
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