45 pistol, but knew if I reached for it, we'd
all be mowed down. Stepping forward, I motioned the Jap car into the
ditch and around the truck. They accepted the escape route; in a big
hurry, they were roaring down the road.
We thanked the Red Line Bus family for the lift and instructed them,
"Turn around and get back up in the mountains. Best of luck!"
My medics and I climbed down a steep bank to the east, crossed over a
wide, rocky, river bottom keeping our ten paces between men-and
entered a thick jungle. Within ten minutes, several Japanese tanks
rumbled to a stop on the road, where our truck had been parked, turned
their machine guns toward the jungles and sprayed the area. Bellies to
the earth, we waited and prayed as the bullets slashed through the
forests. We continued to hug the ground for several hours until we
were sure the Japs had departed.
We moved deeper into the dense jungle, up an old trail. Suddenly, we
could hear crackling footsteps all around us we were surrounded! We
froze! I reached for my .45, hoping to get one of them before they got
us. Thirty pairs of eyes were focused on us.
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