Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Read online

  “Thank you, General. But I was just doing my job.”

  MacArthur took the seat behind his desk and gestured for me to take a seat on the sofa with General Dorsey. “I want to especially thank you for your efforts to preserve the lives of the civilian population in your operations here. It’s no secret that the people of the Philippines mean a great deal to me. Your efforts have gone a long way in making my return possible.”

  A twinge of guilt hit me as I thought of my failures to protect them more than my successes. We’d suffered so many losses over the past three years on these islands. I was eager to make sure their deaths were not in vain.

  MacArthur launched into an in-depth interview over all the activities of the guerrillas of late. How many were there? Who could be trusted? Who were the commanders? How well were they trained? The questions went on and on for some time.

  I answered him with as much detail as I could. “Sir, in the Luzon province, we have approximately 38,000 men and women and about 3,700 officers. They are eagerly awaiting your orders and will be loyal to the very end.”

  MacArthur cracked a pleased smile before digging into more questions, this time turning his attention to the prisoner-of-war camps and the position of the Japanese in Manila. I answered each question as thoroughly as I could, impressed by his understanding of the situation. All in all, the interview lasted nearly an hour.

  When he was finally finished, MacArthur stood and came around his desk, once again extending his hand. “You’ve done a fine job, Major Doyle. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  I shook his hand and thanked him. “Actually, sir, I’m anxious to know how and when my troops will be incorporated into the regular army. They need to know that their service is appreciated and that they’ll be treated as equals.”

  At this MacArthur frowned and glanced over at General Dorsey. “I understand your position,” MacArthur said, “and I respect it immensely. I assure you that your men will be treated well.”

  “It’s just…well, sir, if I may speak frankly, they’ve endured a great deal of hardship, all the while expecting to get their shot at fighting back.”

  “Surely you can’t expect that these men are ready to fight in the regular American army?” General Dorsey spoke up.

  The disbelief in his voice set me on edge. “I’ve trained them myself, and yes, they are ready. Even when they had every opportunity to attack the Japanese positions, they have followed the orders given to them to wait for reinforcements. They’ve seen their friends and families tortured and murdered, they’ve been hunted like animals, and many of them have given their own lives. They’ve done all this for the promise that when the opportunity comes, they will be able to fight for their own freedom.”

  “Perhaps their cause will best be served by allowing superior forces to do the job.”

  I stared at General Dorsey while doing everything I could to hold my tongue. Superior forces?

  MacArthur cleared his throat. “I assure you, Major Doyle, if and when the opportunity presents itself, your forces will be called upon to fight. We’ll need every fighting man available to beat back the Japanese. For now, I expect you and your men will continue to perform your duties admirably. The most important thing we need from you right now is information, which you have delivered with the highest professionalism. Again, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done.” He gestured toward the door. “Please let Colonel Watson know of any of your needs for supplies for your men. If you have any trouble at all securing these, you let me know directly.”

  “Thank you, sir. One more thing, if I may, sir,” I said, determined to get my boys the recognition they deserved. “I’ve promoted many men over the past three years, including several lieutenant colonels. I’d like to request that their commissions be honored. I’ll also be recommending several for awards and medals.”

  MacArthur nodded. “You can vouch for these men?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’ll see to it.”

  General Dorsey followed me out into the hall afterward and walked with me toward Colonel Watson’s office. “I wanted to speak with you privately for a moment, Major.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, still a little on edge from his comments. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I wanted to let you know that early on in the war, when you were first left on Mindanao, we had some sketchy information on your whereabouts. We picked up Japanese communications that led us to believe you’d been in some skirmishes on Panay, and they were hunting you and some other Americans who had escaped from prison camps.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said, remembering the weeks I’d trudged across the island north of Mindanao, hoping and praying to find anyone with a boat.

  “We were getting spotty intelligence from the area that guerrilla units were forming, and in the best interest of protecting all of you, we made a decision to disseminate information to confuse the Japanese. We were hoping it would take them off your tail.”

  I stopped walking and faced the general. “Sir, what exactly are you getting at?”

  “You and some other Americans in the area were officially declared dead. And your families were notified as such.”

  “You told my family I was dead?”

  “Well, yes. We weren’t sure you were even alive at the time. Like I said, the Jap communications we intercepted were spotty, and they’ve been known to put out false information. I personally spoke to your wife—”

  “My wife? She thinks I’m dead too?”

  A strange expression came over his face, almost a smile. “Well, I did my best to convince her, but I don’t think she bought it. That’s one determined young lady.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mother and Mary must have been devastated. And Ruby. What must she have thought? “Sir, do you know where my wife is now?”

  “I arranged for her transportation to Houston. I believe she had a family there she was going to stay with. I can contact her for you and let her know you’ve been located. There’s no reason to protect your whereabouts anymore.”

  I could hardly process the information he’d given me. I hadn’t let myself even imagine the outside world for so long. I didn’t know what to do. Thoughts of home, thoughts of Ruby, made me weak. I had to stay strong, focused on the mission directly in front of me. My men needed me.

  “Sir, I appreciate the information. I’m sure my wife and family would be relieved to know I’m alive. If you can arrange for that, I would be grateful.”

  “I’ll take care of it myself, Major.”

  On the drive back to my headquarters at Meycauayan, I allowed myself only a few moments to think about Ruby. I pictured her standing beside me on our wedding day, holding her beneath me on our wedding night. My heart stirred, and I prayed she would forgive me for everything that had happened since.

  ***

  I returned to headquarters to a group eager to take up arms against the Japanese. When I relayed the news to my staff that we would only be operating in a support role, the protests were loud and profane.

  “What have we been doing this for if not to fight the dirty Japs when the time came?” Captain Harris yelled. “We’ve been sitting on the sidelines for three years!”

  “We’ve hardly been sitting on the sidelines,” I said, trying to keep calm. “Our work here has been instrumental in making the recapture of the Philippines even possible. MacArthur said so himself.”

  “Oh, he did? Well that’s just great!” He paced around the hut we’d been using for meetings, his freckled face growing redder by the second as he continued to swear.

  Others voiced their objections and complaints, but none as vehemently as Harris. Diego stood just off to my right, his arms crossed, his stance wide and ready to respond. We’d already had this discussion on the way back from San Miguel, so he had been prepared for the eruption.

  Kiko stepped forward and raised his voice, his emotions thickening his Spanish accent. “Mayb
e we should return to our barrios. At least there we can help rebuild what’s left of them. The Americans will never treat us as equals.”

  Diego stepped around me and pointed his finger back in my direction. “Major Doyle is American. He treats us like men. He treats us like brothers. We fight with him because he fights with us. With the Filipino man. We must stay with Major Doyle and do as he has ordered.”

  Harris huffed and stomped toward the entrance. “Well, I’m an American too, and I don’t aim to sit around and watch the war like a spectator.” He gestured around the room. “And any of you are welcome to join me.” At that, he ducked and left the hut.

  The remaining eight men looked around at each other and at me with anxious expressions. “I understand your frustrations,” I said. “I really do. But I also believe MacArthur has a plan, and if we stick with him, we’ll win this war, and you’ll get your homes and your country back.”

  Diego nodded. “This is your country now too, hermano. I am with you.”

  A few of the others agreed with Diego, but Kiko couldn’t be swayed. “Japanese must pay for what they’ve done to my people. I cannot stand around and do nothing.” He stormed out of the hut as well.

  Diego crossed himself and mouthed a prayer before turning to me. “What do we do now?”

  “We wait for orders,” I said.

  ***

  By the time I reached my hut I was so exhausted that Diego and Bruno were supporting me by the elbows once again. I was looking forward to taking the sedatives Bruno had been feeding me for months, and shutting my mind off to the rest of the world for a few hours. But as I stepped through the small door, ready to collapse onto my pallet, I noticed a figure on the other side of the hut, half hidden in the shadowy corner. I froze and reached for my pistol.

  Without hesitation, Diego maneuvered himself between the intruder and me. “Come out where I can see you,” he demanded.

  The small, graceful figure of Malaya Baon stepped into the patch of fading sunlight created by the window. My racing heart gave me a burst of adrenaline that made my head swim for a moment. Diego and I both lowered our weapons just as Bruno ducked inside as well.

  I stared at Malaya, her fragrant, feminine presence a stark contrast to that of our sweaty, filthy aroma. “Malaya,” I said, unable to hide the relief in my voice. “Thank God. Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, glancing at Bruno and Diego. “I am sorry if I frightened you. Captain Harris said it would be all right to wait here.”

  “Of course. It’s fine.” I turned to Diego. “Thank you for your help in the meeting. I’m exhausted and would like to get some rest now. We’ll discuss our options moving forward in the morning.”

  I meant the statement as a dismissal, but he looked between Malaya and me with concern. “Major, I can show Miss Baon to a place where she can rest for the night. Perhaps you can speak in the morning when you’ve had your rest. It has been a very long day.”

  “I appreciate your concern. But I’d like to speak to Miss Baon for a moment alone before retiring for the night.”

  Bruno frowned, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’ll need these,” he said, slamming two pills onto a nearby bamboo table.

  “Thank you, Bruno,” I said. “Goodnight.”

  He ducked out of the door, leaving only Diego to decide what he should do.

  “Diego, it’s fine. Really. Go on and get some rest.”

  Diego shot Malaya a final glance, shook his head, and mumbled to himself as he stomped out of the hut. Once alone, I went to her and gave her a hug, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

  “I’m so sorry about your father,” I said.

  She held on to me, talking into my chest. “Jabol said you came to the barrio. I wanted to let you know that I am all right.”

  I stepped back to put some distance between us. “You can’t go back into Manila. I spoke with MacArthur today. They’re heading there soon, and the Japs are mining the city, digging in for a bloody battle. I don’t want you mixed up in all that.”

  She managed a tired smile. “I can take care of myself. Do not worry for me, Major.”

  “Go home. Mourn your father. Comfort your family.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked up at me with large dark eyes. “And what about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You are ill. I can see it myself. Who will care for you?”

  “I’m all right. I just need a bit of rest when this is all over.”

  She walked over to the table and picked up the pills Bruno had left behind. “And what are these? Sedatives?”

  “Antibiotics.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “If you are so tired, why do you need help to sleep?”

  There was no getting anything past her. It was what made her such a good spy. “Too much on my mind, I suppose. There’s still a lot of war to be fought.”

  Malaya dropped her gaze to the ground. “And then it will be time for you to return home to America. To your wife. Your family.” Her eyes flickered up to mine. “Your real life.”

  “Yes. I suppose that time will come. But I can’t think about that now. There’s too much to do here, and the chances of surviving are grim at best. Like I said, there’s still a lot of war left to be fought.”

  “Then you will need your rest,” she said. “I will go now. Take care of yourself.”

  “Malaya, promise me you’ll stay out of Manila until this is over.”

  “Is that an order, Major?”

  “Does it need to be, Lieutenant?”

  Her gaze was steady and true, as it always had been. “No. I will go home as you ask. Will I see you again? Or should I say goodbye now?”

  “I’ll try to come see you and Jabol as soon as I can. Just stay out of trouble.”

  She smiled then, the broad, beautiful smile that had convinced so many young Japanese soldiers to spill their secrets. “Then I will wait for you.”

  She swept out of the tiny room, leaving a ghost of her fragrance entwined with the dank staleness in the air. It reminded me of Ruby, and I fought to put my conflicting feelings out of my mind as I took my pills and lay down on the pallet. There was so much I still needed to do in the Philippines. How could I possibly leave these people—my people—behind?

  Chapter Five

  Matthew

  April 17, 1945

  Meycauayan, Philippines

  Manila was secured on March 4, 1945, when the last Japanese stronghold of the city, Intramuros, was liberated. It was a significant, but costly victory. Manila was leveled, with only a single building here and there still standing in usable condition. But the Japanese had been driven from the city into the northern mountains of the Luzon province. With the Philippines soon safely in American hands again, the drive toward the islands of Japan would pick up speed.

  As for the thousands of Filipino guerrilla forces across Luzon, MacArthur decided they would be incorporated into a Filipino Army. After being processed and trained, they would complete the liberation of their country by defeating the Japanese in the north. I spent March and April on the move between regiments across southern Luzon, overseeing the processing and training of the Filipinos.

  Although food and medicine were no longer in short supply, my body struggled to keep up with the frenetic pace, and it refused to adjust to regular amounts of food. I couldn’t seem to shake the dysentery and bouts of fever plaguing me during my travels. Bruno fed me a regular diet of various pills, including bromides to calm my nerves and sulfa tabs to fight infection. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was walking a tightrope with my health, but I kept thinking that if I could just make it through the next stop, I would walk back the meds as my body adjusted.

  When I made it back to Meycauayan in mid-April, Bruno insisted I rest a few days before heading for another regimental inspection. I was so completely exhausted, I didn’t argue. On the morning of April 17, I awoke feeling as close to rested as I had since escaping Mindanao. It was also my
birthday.

  I’d planned on keeping a low profile that day, trying to catch up on paperwork and seeing if I could get through the day with fewer pills propping me up. But word had gotten around somehow that it was my birthday, and when I stepped into the mess tent, I was greeted by a round of cheers and congratulations.

  Diego came up beside me and clapped his hand on my back, nearly knocking me onto my face. “Feliz cumpleaños, Major! Today we celebrate!”

  “No, no,” I said. “Today we work. There’s too much to be done.”

  But my protests were in vain. The cook presented me with a special breakfast of six pancakes stacked on top of one another, with a candle on top. The men broke out into a chorus of “Happy Birthday,” and I humbly blew out the candle.

  I was hoping that would be the end of it, but not long after breakfast, a group of survivors from the Baon barrio arrived, including Malaya and her brother, Jabol. Determined to celebrate despite their recent tragedy, they’d brought a feast with them, including a band. They brought native drums, kubings, which were small bamboo harps played against the lips by adjusting the shape of the mouth, and several kudyapi, which were larger stringed instruments held across the lap.

  As soon as I saw the party, I knew my planned day of recovery was over. My head began to throb and I became breathless, aware of my heart rate speeding up. Making my excuses, I hunted Bruno down, and requested his help.

  “Major,” he said, frowning at me, “we need to talk about your medicine.”

  “Yes, I know. You can reduce the pills tomorrow. I just need to get through today.”

  “You should see army doctors now. They can treat you better.”

  “You’re the one I trust,” I replied, growing impatient.

  I could see that statement amused him. “If you trust me, then you should listen. Your medicine is too high. You need to give your body time to adjust to all the changes naturally.”