Davidson / Marcano Soul of Jubie Walker

1. Auflage 2021
ISBN: 978-1-0983-9098-3
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 254 Seiten

Jubie Walker is not a normal fifteen-year-old-boy. He loves to read about history, listen to big-band music, and doesn't seem to connect with any of his classmates. He also has the strange dreams... Though he fights to stay awake, Jubie finds himself nearly nightly in a place filled with shadows and unexplained wonders. It's somehow 1942, and American soldiers are fighting the Japanese in World War II. Someone, or something, has attached itself to the very soul of Jubie Walker. While Jubie struggles with the haunting of the soldier's ghost, he must ask himself: Is there such thing as transferal of a soul? Perhaps life is a never-ending saga with one soul and many bodies, bringing repressed memories to the surface when déjà vu comes around. One thing is certain. The soldier-and Jubie himself-will seek eternal peace until it is found.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Davidson, D.

Marcano, R.

Leseproben

Prologue

No matter how hard he fought to stay awake, slumber came, followed by the unwelcomed reverie. Jubie Walker always seemed to view his strange dreams (flashbacks) through a tinted red lens. This time was no different; it took him to where he did not want to go—a place filled with shadows and unexplained wonders—a place not of Jubie Walker’s world. Jubie’s breathing grew shallow, and his heart pulsated. The 15-year-old felt the start of another headache.

FLASHBACK

The constant chatter of jungle noise only added to their apprehension, each man with his thoughts. No one could imagine what would happen next. They only knew it would soon come to pass. But for now, it was the sound of the constant buzzing of flies and mosquitos. The unbearable heat soaked through each soldier’s khaki shirt, and the only thing worse; waiting for the inevitable. The night sky; black as death itself.

Bright orange and blue tracer bullets flashed a path across the heavens in a spectacular display of pyrotechnics. Furthermore, the enemy artillery guns caused a massive number of American soldiers to be wounded or killed. The jungle foliage burned and smoldered, sending gray clouds of smoke into the air. Meanwhile, all the terrified defenders could feel at the moment was anxiousness. It was a scene out of hell with Satan himself leading the assault.

The sound of running footsteps through the tropical undergrowth caught the two American soldiers’ attention who operated the M1917 Browning, water-cooled machine gun. Sergeant Reese Cochran and Corporal Titus Long wore World War One “Doughboy” helmets. It was early April 1942, and they were fighting their war from Luzon Island in the Philippines. Unfortunately, the Japanese outnumbered the American and Filipino forces. Consequently, things appeared to be grim for the American and Filipino soldiers.

As the rustling sound grew louder, Titus Long felt the tightness in his chest and his mouth went dry. His bowels were ready to explode, but shitting himself would be the least of his problems. He was 19-years-old, but his blonde hair and smooth skin suggested he might be younger. In the army for less than two years, Titus was not ready for something, so earth-shaking. He thought the thrill of combat should invigorate him and give him the courage he would need to survive. Now that war fell upon him, Titus seemed terrified with the possibility of acting cowardly under fire and not make a proper accounting of himself. He knew this would be nothing like “All Quiet on the Western Front,” “Dawn Patrol,” and “A Farewell to Arms,” or the other war movies he used to watch on Saturday night at the Beekman Theater in Chicago. They were brutal to watch, but they were only movies. In this illusionary island paradise, dying here would mean forever, no “do-overs” or second chances. My God, how did I ever put myself in this situation? I’m scared shitless, but I can’t show my fear to anyone. Not to the “Sarge.” I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to prove myself to be a coward either. Titus Long’s thinking seemed clouded by fear and apprehension.

Sergeant Reese Cochran was in his late 20s. His stubble face and leathery skin gave him the look of a much older man. A misconception that worked to his advantage as a Non-Commissioned Officer in charge of men. Reese grew up in one of Newark, New Jersey’s rough neighborhoods. A few blocks from where the famous 19th Century novelist Stephen Crane was born, and best remembered as the author of “The Red Badge of Courage.”

Reese learned how to fight and to survive at the tender age of thirteen. Young gangs of hoodlums often terrorized his community, but Reese never backed down when things got personal. When necessary, he always stood his ground and fought against anyone who tried to bully or intimidate him. He even had several run-ins with the local cops. But most of the law enforcement liked young Reese Cochran. He was tough, but he never found the need to lie to the police. Not even if that lie could get him out of trouble. The police respected that, and that respect carried over to Reese Cochran’s young adult life. Reese always held dear to his father’s words; I can put up with most anything but stealing and lying. It seemed a noble code for Reese Cochran to follow.

Reese chose the Army to get away from the violence and uncertainties of urban life. It was the right choice. The army life gave him discipline, regimentation, and the spirit of the team over individuality. Besides, it guaranteed to put a few bucks in his pocket every month. Reese adapted to it and made his way through the ranks fast. The eight-year veteran soldier had gained some foreign service experience while stationed in Shanghai in the 1930s. The American soldiers faced the dilemma of keeping the peace between Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, the Chinese Nationalist Forces commander, and the Red Army and leader, Ma-Tse-Tung. The two factions often skirmished. The clashes politically motivated—tasking the Americans Army to prevent unnecessary loss of life on either side. Reese had witnessed barbarism against innocent Chinese civilians perpetrated by both the National Forces and the Red Army. The killing and wounding of innocent civilians sickened the hard-nosed soldier—especially the killing of children. It seemed to be a necessary part of the war, but it remained a bitter pill for Reese Cochran to swallow. When the Japanese Army invaded Shanghai, it temporarily ended the conflict between the Chinese Nationals and the Red Army. The Japanese soldier proved to be cruel and even more brutal to the Chinese people. In the spring of 1938, the U.S. 15th infantry received orders to depart mainland China. Now the Chinese people would have to unite to do battle with Japan.

Reese now faced the very same seasoned and well-disciplined Japanese soldier. He knew his present predicament might not turn out well for him. The American troops appeared to be outmatched by a far superior force of Japanese soldiers. It appeared to be a hopeless situation without reinforcements arriving in the Philippines. The squad of American soldiers lined up in a ravine to the machine gun’s left and right. Most of the soldiers carried Enfield or Springfield rifles; two of the soldiers favored Tommy guns. The mood became tenuous and frightening when the Americans caught sight of their enemy about to attack. The number of Japanese soldiers was well over one hundred. Most Japanese soldiers wore helmets with a five-point faded yellow star stamped dead center on the helmet’s front. Some wore soft caps with the same yellow star. A sudden quiet only added to everyone’s apprehension. Some American GIs could feel their hearts pounding in their chests. Most had cotton mouth and found it difficult to swallow. One young American soldier had already pissed his uniform fatigues. The fear was unbounded and overwhelming. The next few moments felt like forever, and then it happened. A loud screeching whistle boomed through the air.

A Japanese officer held up his samurai sword, and the Japanese soldiers charged forward, screaming, “Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!”

Japanese males, from a very young age, got trained and indoctrinated into Bushido. “The ancient code of the Samurai Warrior.” Translated to English, it meant, “Way of the warrior.” The principles of Bushido embraced bravery, respect, and honor. A Japanese soldier always remained loyal to his country. He’d never surrender, opting instead for suicide in respect of the emperor.

In contrast, the American soldier’s values were much different. They fought for the love of the country, but staying alive was always paramount. They intended to “live to fight another day.”

Sergeant Cochran fired the Browning machine gun as Titus Long knelt to the left of the weapon, guiding the ammunition belt through the killing machine. Cartridge case, after cartridge case, spat out of the gun at an alarming rate.

Titus Long took notice of how fast the ammunition was dwindling. “Hey, Sarge, ease up.” Titus hollered.

The gruff Sergeant glared at Titus Long. “Ease up?” Sergeant Cochran grinned and pressed on the trigger again. The tripod juddered as the water-cooled Browning discharged bullet after bullet—maintaining an intense fire at the assaulting Japanese troops. As the barrel on the machine gun glowed red hot, the weapon was in danger of malfunctioning. The enemy suffered a heavy toll of casualties, but they kept coming. American soldiers continued to fire their rifles and Tommy guns at the attacking enemy. The situation seemed hopeless. For every enemy soldier who fell, another was there to take his place.

The G.I. to the far left of Sergeant Reese Cochran was 22-year-old Private First-Class Leonard Witkowski. He had a solid build. However, Sergeant Cochran felt Witkowski lacked the common sense a good soldier should have. Still, Witkowski’s loyalty to his Sergeant was evident. Reese Cochran respected that allegiance and overlooked Witkowski’s shortcomings. The pollock showed toughness and resilience that always dwarfed caution. Unfortunately, this wildness often led to unstable and unpredictable behavior by the son of Polish immigrant parents living in Pennsylvania.

Sergeant Cochran noticed Witkowski was making himself too much of a target for the Japanese. “Get down, you crazy pollock, fore you get your fool head blown off!”

Witkowski ducked but continued to fire his Tommy-gun at the attacking Japs. “I can’t shoot ’em if I can’t see ’em.”

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