As the time ticked away, a guard came back and yelled something at those in the cell. Jake began to wonder how long the guards would leave everyone together like this in the cell. But as he looked around, another thought struck him. Maybe this wasn’t a holding cell at all. Maybe this was his new home and these people were all his permanent cellmates.
Hours seemed to pass before food was brought to them. Jake gagged when he looked into the chipped enamel bowl that was slid in through an opening in the cell door. Inside was a scoop of rice and some gray liquid with fatty blobs floating on top. Writhing around inside the bowl were several maggots and worms. As hungry as he was, Jake took one look at the bowl and handed it to the person beside him. There was no way he could swallow the food it contained.
It was summer in China, and the heat inside the cell was stifling. When the guards brought thin blankets and handed one to each of the eight airmen, Jake guessed that it was nighttime. Those in the cell were then allowed to move around a little and find somewhere to sleep. But there was not enough room for everyone to lie down. About half the prisoners were able to recline, while the rest slept sitting up, leaning on each other for support. Jake felt like he was an animal herded into a pen. Despite the fact that it was night, the lights continued to blaze overhead, casting strange shadows over the group. Jake could hear quiet groans and weeping as the night dragged on.
About midnight, another sound drifted into the cell. At first Jake thought he was dreaming, but the sound was real. An orchestra started up, and then a voice began to sing:
They asked me how I knew
My true love was true.
Oh, I of course replied
Something here inside cannot be denied.
They said someday you’ll find
All who love are blind.
Oh, when your heart’s on fire
You must realize
Smoke gets in your eyes.
Someone not far away was listening to an American pop record. Jake shut his eyes for a moment. He could picture Fred Astaire whirling Ginger Rogers around the dance floor. And then he opened his eyes again to the mass of suffering around him. The music played on, a cruel reminder of everything he had left behind in the United States. He wondered what his mother was doing right then. Did she know he was alive? Had she been told about the Doolittle Raiders’ mission? Either way, Jake knew she would be worried sick. He wished he had some way of communicating with the outside world. The Geneva Convention allowed prisoners of war to send letters home, but the Japanese would have none of it.
As the night wore on, rats ran in and out of the cell, scavenging for grains of rice that had fallen and nibbling at any exposed fingers and toes. Despite the stifling heat, Jake tucked his pants legs into his socks and stuffed his hands into his pockets to make himself a less-appealing snack for the vermin.
The music eventually stopped. In the morning the guards came by and prodded everyone with swords until all the prisoners stood up. Many had to lean against the bamboo bars or on one another for support. Minutes later breakfast was served—the same inedible gruel from the night before—and Jake gave his bowl to the young Chinese man next to him. He bowed and thanked Jake, exposing a few broken teeth as he smiled.
The day was long. There was too much time to think and nothing to think about except the terrible conditions Jake found himself in. Everyone in the cell, except Dean, was made to sit cross-legged on the floor. Jake’s back ached, and he longed to be able to lean against the cell wall. The temperature inside the cell continued to rise and, with it, the stench of captives and the overflowing “toilet,” the barrel in the corner that the Japanese called a “benjo.” When the guards weren’t looking, the other prisoners picked lice out of their hair and the seams of their clothing. Jake and the other Doolittle Raiders followed their lead.
As the insects crawled over their clothes and from one person to the next, Jake wondered how many diseases the thirty prisoners in the cell could count among them. It was one thing to make it through the torture and the beatings but quite another to survive the deadly diseases around him.
Eventually dinner was doled out in enamel bowls to the prisoners, and then everyone settled for the night. During the night Jake noticed that the guards came by the cell less frequently.
An older Chinese man died quietly in the corner of the cell during the night, and his body was removed in the morning. If the prisoners in the cell continued to die at one per night, Jake mused, no one would be left alive by the end of a month.
Jake didn’t like to think of it, but he was having serious doubts about how long Dean from the Green Hornet crew would last. Both of Dean’s legs had been deeply gashed when the Mitchell B-25 bomber had ditched in the ocean, and now the wounds were infected. The infection, coupled with the lack of food, had sapped the pilot’s strength. The normally two-hundred-pound pilot had lost over sixty pounds since being captured by the Japanese. Dean now barely had the strength to move and would often pass out. Jake could see that Dean was fading fast.
By the third day of being cooped up in the wretched cell, Jake was feeling weak and nauseated from hunger. He knew that he would have to give in and eat the prison food served him. As Jake gulped down the contents of the bowl, the food tasted every bit as wretched as it looked. Jake tried not to look too hard at what he was actually putting into his mouth. He tried to reassure himself with Chase Nielsen’s comment from the night before that bugs and maggots in the food might provide some vitamins and nutrients that the prisoners’ bodies needed. Worst of all for Jake, however, despite the effort of forcing himself to eat, the food did not fill up his hungry stomach.
The days dragged on, punctuated by violent outbursts from the guards. If a prisoner seemed to be relaxing by leaning back on his or her elbows, a guard would strike them with a stick. On some nights, for no apparent reason, the guards would wake everyone up by poking each person with sticks and then would order the person to stand up for the rest of the night. At times like this, all Jake could think of was those carefree days working for the Basque sheepherders, when he was completely alone, with no one telling him what to do. How far away those days were now.
About every other day the Kempei-Tai took a couple of the Doolittle Raiders into a small room and beat or tortured them. Jake used his hatred of the Japanese and their master plan to take over the world to stay mentally focused during these torture sessions.
Then one afternoon, without any fanfare, all of the prisoners except the eight Doolittle Raiders were ordered out of the cell, handcuffed together in twos, and marched away. A dreadful feeling overcame Jake as he watched them go. Were they being marched off to face a firing squad? Or were they being taken to an even worse prison or to some other unimaginable destination? No one knew.
During the time in the cell in Shanghai, the American airmen noticed that their guards were reluctant to unlock the door and actually come into the cell. They used this knowledge to their advantage. Throughout the day the men were supposed to sit cross-legged on the cell floor in silence. But now that the eight Americans were alone together, they began to talk among themselves. Whenever a guard heard them, he would bang on the cell door and yell, “Kurah!” (“Hey” in Japanese.) This meant that the men were supposed to stop talking. But because they knew of the guards’ reluctance to enter the cell, they ignored the warning and kept talking. Sometimes Bob Hite would even yell abuse back at the guards.
During these times of talking, each man told the others where he was from, about his experiences growing up, how he came to be in the Army Air Corps, and what he hoped to do back home once America defeated the Japanese. Despite his grim surroundings, Jake enjoyed these times. It lifted his spirit to hear the others talk about life in the United States.
Sometimes, though, the tension in the cell reached a breaking point. On one occasion a new guard came on duty and caught the men talking among themselves. He banged loudly on the door and yelled, “Kurah!” As he often did, Bob yelled back, “Blow it out your barracks bag, buster!” And then he made a threatening gesture with his fists toward the cell door.
Much to everyone’s shock, the cell door flung open, and the guard burst into the cell, holding his sword still encased in its scabbard. He swung the sword at Bob and the scabbard hit Bob on the head, leaving a nasty gash. In reflex, Bob reached up and grabbed the scabbard, which pulled away from the sword. Now the guard stood with his highly polished sword ready to thrust it into Bob. Jake held his breath and watched in horror. He quickly glanced at the other men and knew that they were all thinking the same thing. If the guard stabbed Bob with the sword, the men would all rush the guard and strangle him before any other guards could come to his rescue. As the men waited for the guard to strike, Will stood up beside Bob as if to say to the guard, “If you stab him, you are also going to have to stab me.”
Both men crouched down like wrestlers ready to pounce. The guard, sensing he was in danger, slowly began to back out of the cell door, locking it behind him. Relief flooded through the cell. After the incident, the guards seemed to have more respect for their American prisoners, and some unexpected things happened.
One of the guards, who spoke English with a British accent, announced that some English policemen were still living and keeping order in the International Concessions of Shanghai. These policemen had taken up a food collection for any American or English prisoners held in the Bridge House. Jake and the other airmen were astonished when soon afterward they were each presented with a plate of deviled eggs, roast beef, corn, and jam roly-poly (a traditional British pudding), followed by a cup of strong coffee. It was almost too good to believe. Each man savored the taste of home cooking. Jake felt instantly stronger, and his outlook began to improve. Perhaps the Japanese were “fattening them up” before they released them from prison!
Once a day for the next fourteen days, the men enjoyed the wonderful food. And then the meals stopped coming as abruptly as they had started. No explanation was offered as to why.
When the Japanese arrested the airmen, the men’s wallets, loose change, watches, rings, and other jewelry items were taken from them. To their surprise, the airmen had been allowed to keep their American banknotes. As the men talked among themselves, they wondered whether one or other of the guards with their new grudging respect for them might be able to be bribed with the money. It took three weeks to hatch their plan, but eventually they spoke to the English-speaking guard. They asked the guard if he would take their pooled American money and exchange it for them on the black market. They waited anxiously, hoping that the guard wouldn’t report their action to his superiors. To their relief he did not, and several days later the guard handed them a roll of local banknotes. His action was a surprise to Jake, who puzzled over the strange code of honor that the Japanese guards seemed to have. The guards would beat and humiliate their prisoners for no apparent reason, but they would not steal the prisoners’ money.
With the money, the airmen persuaded the guards to bring them meat and candy. It was hard to tell just what kind of meat it was that the guards brought them, but nonetheless, it tasted good to the men. And while they discovered that the candy bars were moldy when they unwrapped them, the candy still tasted good.
As surprised as Jake and the others were at their guards’ changing their money on the black market and providing the items they asked for, they had an even bigger surprise in mid-August. It was now four months since the Japanese had captured them, and in that time the men had not bathed, cleaned their teeth, or shaved. Then one day guards came and escorted the men, one at a time, upstairs to one of the old hotel rooms, where the men were allowed to take a bath.
