“Hello, sir? Yes, you there. Sir?”

The Japanese soldier whipped around to see Private Harrison approaching him from behind.

“Yes, umm, hi,” persisted Harrison. “Do you know the way to the nearest secret American base?”

The Japanese man curved his eyes, suspiciously. “I do not understand,” he muttered in broken English, “are you turning self in?”

“Turning myself in?” Harrison repeated. He chuckled. “No, no. I’m just asking for directions.”

The soldier smirked. With one high-pitched whistle, four more Japs hurried over and surrounded the Private. 

“What are you doing here?” one commanded.

“Are you here to negotiate ceasefire?” asked another.

“Maybe Americans are surrendering!” yet another Jap shouted.

“Or maybe he is suicide bom-ber,” the last one suggested.

“No,” the first soldier stopped all of the chattering. “He is only idiot.” He unholstered his handgun and pointed it weakly at Harrison. “Come here, idiot.”

“Ahahahaha! Idiot!” the gang all howled in harmony as they, too, raised their own guns to the Private.

At that moment, a light bulb struck itself on in Harrison’s head. “You guys must be Japanese!” he shouted. And just like that, the Private found himself in a prison cell within the Japanese base, stripped of his freshly stolen rifle, compass, and canteen. And there he lay, for hours on end, listening to the passing soldiers outside ridicule him, wondering why, oh why, didn’t he steal Arkin’s map as well.

His gloom was eased when he saw an unconscious Sergeant being dragged through the chamber outside, leaving a disturbing trail of blood on the cold floor behind him. Immediately, Harrison pressed himself up against the steel bars of the door. “Sergeant Arkin! Sergeant Arkin!”

No response.

“Sergeant! Sergeant!” 

The guard who was dragging Arkin’s body paused and glanced into the Private’s cell. “Do you know this man?” he questioned Harrison.

“Yes! Yes, I know him! That’s my sergeant!”

The guard shrugged, unlocked the cell door, and threw the crumpled Sergeant inside. As soon as he rested on the ground, a pool of blood formed around Arkin’s body. The cell door was violently locked, trapping them both inside.

“Sergeant!” Harrison screamed as loud as he could. He grabbed Arkin by the shoulder, turned him over. It was then that he saw the gaping wound in his abdomen, nearly deep enough to see the floor through. “Sergeant, sergeant, I’m so sorry!”

Suddenly, a fist wrapped itself around Harrison’s collar. “So am I,” whispered Arkin. 

“Sergeant! You’re alive!”

Arkin turned his head towards Harrison’s, pale from blood loss. “I am,” he agreed, “and that’s bad news for you, PRIVATE!!!!!!!”

(To be continued in Chapter Five)

Click link for Chapter Three:

http://authspot.com/short-stories/man-up-day-u-s-a-chapter-three/