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jumping into the
    bunker. No one knew where he had been up to then. His face was white, and the hilt of sword was shaking in his hand. He bawled out in front of the soldiers.
    “What do you think you’re doing? You unhelpful pinheads! If you shoot, they find our position. Can’t you make out such a simple thing? You retards! How long have you been in the machine gun company? Huh?”
    Jinno looked infuriated. He was notorious for his short temper. Having a tendency to get angry over trivial matters, he used to give them “binta,” a hard slap, and sometimes forced them to recite “Gunjin-Chokuyu,” the Imperial rescript to soldiers and sailors. Everyone nicknamed him “Binchoku,” a compound of binta and Gunjin-Chokuyu, behind his back and avoided him.
    Kasuga now believed the possibility of an enemy landing was strong. Disclo-sure of positions was only a matter of time. Comrades in Kyaukphyu were moan-ing under severe attacks. The time to shoot was now or never. He became indignant and looked back to Tomita, who was grinning in a self-satisfied manner. Then Tomita tightened his mouth, faced Jinno, and said, “I wasn’t going to shoot, Lieutenant. I moved the gun into the bunker so the enemies wouldn’t spot it from the air. It’s my fault for not having gotten your permission to change positions, sir.”
    Jinno showed some embarrassment and murmured, “Well, I was thinking exactly the same. Actually I also came here to order you a position change. You’ve made a good decision, Sarge.”
    Then Jinno disappeared again. He looked uncertain of this war situation. If not for Tomita’s quick wit, Jinno would probably have pulled Kasuga or someone else out of place and given him double binta. Kasuga reckoned that Tomita excelled over Jinno in experience and shrewdness.
    Tomita grinned lightheartedly again, indifferent to his admiration, and stated,
    “A puking excuse suits Binchoku. Now I can’t help it. He has nothing better to do than to keep me as meek as a lamb here.”
    After a while, a buzzing low-pitched sound came from nowhere. Everyone had heard it many times. Kasuga looked for the western sky. More than thirty aircraft came into view at once. A flock of Consolidated B-24 Liberators—examples of expensive, tough, Allied heavy bombers—spread over the sky. Allowing them no time to feel overwhelmed, everyone erupted into a commotion. Kasuga heard everybody around him shout.
    “That’s too bad! Here come the damned Consoli!”
    “Everybody! Evacuate immediately! Bombers coming!”
    “Shelter the machine gun! Get into the cave! Hurry up, you dimwit!”
    Other soldiers jumped into the narrow bunker, one after another, while members of Tomita Squad were dragging the machine gun. Shortly, a sound like distant thunder came. Kasuga supposed the first bomb had just reached the ground.
    Then another followed. Gradually the sounds became incessant, louder, and closer. Soon an incredibly loud reverberation came. And the loudness like a drum performance at a Shinto festival wrapped up everything. Dry soil powder began falling on them from gaps in the logs beneath the ominously squeaking ceiling.
    Though it was a fully covered bunker, a direct hit would crush it easily. Due to the number of people, Kasuga could no longer evacuate into the slightly safer side tunnel. He firmly fastened the webbing tapes of his steel helmet in haste and covered his eyes tightly with both hands to guard them from the negative pressure of an explosion that could easily force them out of their sockets. Then he spread out his palms and plugged his ears with his thumbs to prevent an eardrum rupture.
    That was all Kasuga could do.
    The enemy had already won command of the air when he had come to Ramree Island for the first time. He had experienced the terrors of air raids many times, but never one as fierce as this. It was so severe that it felt almost everlasting.
    Bombers were clearly aiming at the hills around there and Mount Peter, to