Jungle G.I.

April 1943

Beriberi took Lacey in the early hours of the morning. The gibbons screamed us out of our drugged stupor of sleep. They were my alarm clock. A constant reminder that the jungle is neutral. The jungle is neutral because I can’t change it. It’s not good. It isn’t bad. It is. As it was when we buried Lacey, before he smelt like the rafflesia most of the men came to enjoy. Enjoyed it so much, they dreamt of being the gigantic flower themselves. If you don’t expect anything from the jungle, the worst will never come; of course, because you never expected it. My team were good men and they fought to the end. But for the last year we served together, in the dark, dank pits of the canopy, they willed the end closer and closer.

Chin and I stood, with our head’s bowed down, in our recently regular pattern of a minute’s silence. Chin, tired, said, “We move tonight.” He didn’t wait for a response, not that I planned one. We moved on after each burial, in case the Chinese bandits or Japanese troops had trained dogs. Best to be overly-cautious.

August 1943

Gunfire sounded more frequently and shattered the contents of my ribcage. The aching spread all over: to my earlobes, my eyeballs, and goose bumps everywhere. But I moved and moved my feet, one in front of the other. Focus, I said to myself, focus on the repetition. Stay organised or you’ll lose your mind, I said to myself.

Nightmares plagued me throughout the night. I listened to Siu-Chen’s stories. I listened so attentively a rush of heat developed in my ears. I kept smoothing a finger along my unshaven jaw for a trickle of blood. Siu-Chen left Nanking in early 1938. He never spoke to anyone but Chin; Siu-Chen was deeply disturbed at that time. Apparently, he had come far when I met him. I thought he was mute; turned out he just refused to speak. Not out of malice, I was sure. He met Chin Peng in Malaya and upon finding out he was the leader of the Malayan Chinese Communists Guerrillas, he joined the movement.

Siu-Chen’s history was narrated through Chin. The three of us, huddled around a small wick lamp. I was surprised the pathetic source of heat had any oxygen with three grown men closed in on it. The smell of burnt kerosene filled my head when I noticed Siu-Chen patted Chin on the arm lightly.