Читать книгу Dutch Clarke -- the War Years - Brian Psy.D. Ratty - Страница 3

We were a tiny speck floating in no particular direction across the vast Pacific. The cold ocean spray across my face jarred me awake. Groggy at first, I tried to regain my reality. Before my raft mates had fallen asleep, I had promised to be on watch, but then dozed off. The ocean was rolling with long swells, with a breeze out of the south. In my exhausted state, this pitching motion and fresh air had been just too much for me.

In the east, I could make out the first signs of the coming morning. The sky just above the horizon had a pink and amber glow. Sunrise would happen fast, as it always did in the South Pacific. Looking around the raft, I saw that my four mates were still sleeping. No need to wake them now, I thought. God knows they can use the rest, after last night. They looked peaceful yet pathetic in their dirty, tattered and torn clothes. The sun, sea and thirst would soon be our enemy for the day. They would need all their strength, and then some, to face what lay ahead.

Repositioning my body against the side of the raft, I realized how wet my butt and legs were. But then, all of us had the same problem, as the bottom of the float had only woven canvas straps that were open to the sea. The Japanese raft was made out of light-weight balsa wood and wrapped with gray cloth strips. The soggy craft was about fourteen feet long and six feet wide. There was no survival kit, no oars, no nothing. It was seaworthy, but that was about all.

Turning my head, I began watching the light show in the east. My mind was racing, my thoughts not really clear. I knew the month was March…the year 1945…but I had no idea what day, and I had no idea where we were or where the tides might take us. I had no idea about anything to do with the future. I did know that we had escaped, last evening, from a rusty old Jap POW freighter that had come under attack from the air or from a submarine. Something had blown a hole in the side of the Hell Ship we were imprisoned in. The breach in the hull was big enough for some prisoners to jump into the ocean to escape.

Luck had smiled on me in many ways, last evening. First, I was fewer than twenty feet from the blast when the shell hit. Second, any shrapnel from the explosion had missed me. Third, when I jumped into the water, no rifle fire pursued me as I swam away from the mired boat. The guards topside of the freighter still had their heads down and lights out. And, finally, I was lucky that I had only been in a Jap POW camp for the past twelve months and still had most of my wits and strength. The other poor devils on that doomed ship had been in captivity for years and had little of either remaining. Yes, I was lucky…but then I have always been lucky when it comes to surviving.