Guarding Savage Read online

  Title Page

  Guarding

  Savage

  a Peter Savage novel

  Dave Edlund

  Durham, NC

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Author’s Post Script

  About the Author

  The Peter Savage Series

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018, by Dave Edlund

  Guarding Savage (Peter Savage, #5)

  Dave Edlund

  www.petersavagenovels.com

  [email protected]

  Published 2018, by Light Messages

  www.lightmessages.com

  Durham, NC 27713

  SAN: 920-9298

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-61153-243-2

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61153-242-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018939637

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without the prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  For my buddy Gary. Thank you for your deep friendship, encouragement, and support over the past four decades.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing and publishing a novel is not the work of a single person, and there are many who have contributed greatly to the completion of Guarding Savage. First, I want to thank Elizabeth Turnbull, my editor, for her countless suggestions and prods that always make the Peter Savage novels better. Also, a huge thank you to Betty and Wally at Light Messages Publishing for making these books possible. And a special thank you to my former publicist, Kylee Wooten, for all her hard work in promoting the Peter Savage novels as well as helping to guide me through the art and etiquette of social media marketing, as well as the many fabulous graphics she’s created. I’m sad to say “former” because Kylee has moved on to a new marketing position with a sports equipment startup. All the best wishes, Kylee.

  I want to express my gratitude and appreciation to the many advance copy reviewers, and a special thank you to Gary Stout and Gordon Gregory for your many good suggestions and constant encouragement.

  Guarding Savage has many nautical scenes that required knowledge of U.S. Naval terminology, especially the phrasing of orders onboard warships. For help with this topic, I turned to my good friend and Navy veteran, Bill Shank. Thank you, Bill, for patiently guiding me through this specific terminology, seemingly arcane to a landlubber like me.

  Last, but far from least, my heartfelt appreciation to you, the readers of these novels. It is a joy to read your emails, and the occasions when I have an opportunity to meet Peter Savage fans are always special moments. Please know that I read all emails sent in through my web site, or contacts through Light Messages:

  www.PeterSavageNovels.com

  [email protected]

  Author’s Note

  For years I’ve been wanting to write this tale. The inspiration began to germinate following numerous trips to Asia beginning three decades ago—mostly to Japan and China, but also to Korea. It was through these visits that I began to appreciate the magnitude of Asian culture on the development of human society.

  Then, more than fifteen years ago, I heard a story on National Public Radio about an author named Iris Chang, and her book The Rape of Nanking. This historical account retells events from December 1937 and into early 1938, as the Imperial Japanese Army occupied Nanking, the ancient capital of China. At the time, the population of Nanking was around one million. The atrocities that occurred over a period of several months, leaving more than 300,000 civilians dead, are well documented, yet little known.

  The Rape of Nanking chronicles the Japanese blood lust, with civilians murdered by a variety of grisly methods, women raped, families destroyed. Historians call this rampage the Nanking Massacre, or the forgotten holocaust. Iris Chang’s book spent ten weeks on the New York Times bestseller list, and it served her purpose of keeping the memory alive.

  It is difficult to imagine, let alone understand, the depth of barbaric cruelty that humans inflict on one another. At times, such behavior seems motivated by hatred stemming from religion, race, or ideological factors. At other times, it seems to be purely for entertainment or sport. And so I found myself trying to understand the Twentieth Century conflict in Asia and the impact those events still have on the modern world. Make no mistake, the impact is very real.

  It may be difficult for some Americans to understand the deep resentment that exists to this day between Chinese and Korean populations on one hand and Japanese populations on the other hand. The forgotten holocaust and the Korean comfort women—women who were forced into sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese Army—certainly provide graphic examples for the animosity. But the analysis needs to go deeper, as there is much more at play.

  The fact that the government of Japan has never apologized for its role in precipitating war on the Chinese and Korean populations during the middle part of the Twentieth Century, and the crimes against humanity that ensued, keeps the resentment alive. Recall that Germany has worked hard to make amends for the actions of the Nazi government, including public apologies, a staunch pro-Israel policy, and a program of paying reparations that dates to 1953.

  In contrast, the Japanese government refuses to publicly apologize or pay reparations. Furthermore, unlike Nazi Germany, Imperial Japan was never held fully accountable for war crimes by the victorious allies in the years following the close of WWII. This is a fact not lost on Chinese and Koreans, who see Japan as unrepentant. This image is strengthened when Japanese politicians visit the historic Yasukuni Shrine, a memorial to Japan’s deceased soldiers, including those who committed class-A war crimes.

  Perhaps the words of the late Iris Chang say it best: “If the Japanese government doesn’t reckon with the crimes of its wartime leaders, history is going to leave them as tainted as their ancestors. You can’t blame this generation for what happened years ago, but you can blame them for not acknowledging these crimes.”1

  History is inescapable, and both China and Japan
have long histories of advanced civilization and culture. In both countries, this rich cultural heritage spans millennia. Exploring the National Museum in Taipei, Taiwan, affords a glimpse at this Chinese cultural heritage and wondrous works of art that demonstrate not only the remarkable ability of craftsmen, but also an exhibition of advanced science and technology in the form of exquisite pottery and glazes. And let’s not forget gunpowder, paper, printing, and the magnetic compass—all invented in China.

  Chinese were also excellent navigators and cartographers, having explored the world’s oceans long before the famous Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish explorers of the Elizabethan era. With a vast supply of historical maps, it’s easy to understand why many Chinese honestly believe they have a legitimate claim to much, if not all, of the East China Sea and the South China Sea. Indeed, even many Western historians acknowledge the seafaring prowess of Chinese sailors under the government of Emperor Zhu Di in the early Fifteenth Century.2

  Fast forward to the present day, and we have many disputes over islands dotting the seas from Malaysia northeast to the Kamchatka Peninsula. For the most part, these islands are uninhabited, and yet they are provoking strong international disagreements, bordering on hostility. Competing claims of sovereignty rely on historical claims. But without consensus on the legitimacy of those historical records, resolution remains elusive.

  Is history bound to repeat? Is another war between two Asian giants—China and Japan—inevitable? Until old wounds heal, and past wrongs are repented, my fear is that we are locked on a course that will place the United States in the middle of a major conflict.

  Perhaps, when all is considered, the root cause is nothing more than pride—a powerful emotion, one that drives people (and nations) to illogical actions. It is time to place rational thought ahead of national pride; to admit past transgressions and pledge to a peaceful path forward; to negotiate, in fairness and good faith, resolutions to overlapping historical claims. This is not a one-sided equation, and to succeed, cooperation of all parties is required. However, history also shows us that military victories never truly conquer national pride.

  There is a lesson here for all nations—including ours. Something to think about…

  DE

  * * *

  1 www.IrisChang.net

  2 1421, The Year China Discovered America, by Gavin Menzies, 2008, Harper Perennial

  Prologue

  Nanking

  January 4, 1938

  The sky was gray with a thick cloud cover. A soft, intermittent drizzle was just enough to dampen the street and drive in the chill. But the weather made no difference to Wei. For the past two weeks, ever since the Japanese soldiers had beaten her and raped her, she felt nothing.

  This dreary afternoon, she was stoically working the kitchen of the small noodle shop owned by her husband’s family. Wearing the humiliation and shame of not only herself, but also that of her husband and family, Wei silently boiled noodles and chopped meager portions of duck.

  There were only a few ducks left, and nearly all the pigs had been shot and butchered by the invading army. That which the soldiers did not gorge upon was left to waste. To the invaders, it made little difference if the population of Nanking slowly starved. There was still an abundance of men and boys for bayonet and sword practice and a seemingly inexhaustible number of women and young girls to satisfy the soldiers.

  The reign of terror had begun twenty-three days earlier when the Japanese Imperial Army entered Nanking and swept through the civilian population like a plague, only the suffering was far worse than could be wrought by any disease. The unimaginable brutality inflicted on the defenseless Chinese left most, like Wei, emotionless—hollow shells devoid of feeling other than physical pain, and there was plenty of that. They simply functioned, doing what was necessary to survive from one minute to the next.

  Three elderly men and a small boy sat around one of five tables in the main room adjacent to the cramped and tiny kitchen. Only a waist-high partition separated the kitchen from the dining tables. The front of the store was open, the roll-up metal door raised as it always was during business hours, which stretched from morning to late in the evening.

  The despair felt by the population of Nanking was amplified on this dreary day, as the dull natural light provided meager illumination within the shop. There were no decorations on the walls to brighten the space. This was a business, and Wei and her husband, Pei-Ming, scraped out a paltry living by serving as many customers each day as they could. There was no profit in encouraging people to prolong their meal—they could go elsewhere to visit.

  The four patrons waited patiently as Wei stirred the noodles in a large boiling caldron of broth. Guan-Yin, her daughter of seven, busied herself washing laundry by hand in a back corner of the kitchen. Later she would wash the tables and mop the floor. She also fed the poultry—what was left of them—and cleaned the pens.

  After no more than two minutes in the bubbling broth, Wei scooped out portions of the noodles into four bowls. Then she used the cleaver to chop half of a roasted duck into four portions, placing one in each of the bowls. Pei-Ming carried the servings, two at a time, to the table. Not a single word was spoken. Even the boy, who was no more than six years of age, was silent.

  Outside the shop, an elderly woman, bent over at a severe angle and supporting the weight of her torso on a crude crutch, shuffled by, disfigured by decades of stoop labor. Residents were peddling large tricycles through the cobbled streets, hauling a variety of loads strapped onto the back. Their loads were mostly merchandise for the tiny family-run stores and businesses, occasionally junk—material to be recycled in some creative fashion—sometimes garbage. Other people were walking this way and that, a seemingly random movement that was, in reality, filled with purpose. No one wanted to loiter on the streets. Japanese soldiers, carrying military rifles with long bayonets fixed to the muzzle, were everywhere. Always two or more, never a single soldier by himself.

  The soldiers milled about casually. Military protocol was absent except when a ranking officer passed by. For years, the invincible Japanese Army and Navy had advanced throughout Southeast Asia unchecked. Now that Nanking had fallen, the army viewed their occupation as a time to rest and relax, to enjoy the spoils of war with impunity, as they had done before, following their conquests.

  Pei-Ming returned to the kitchen and was washing some bowls when four soldiers entered. The elderly men kept their heads bowed, not daring to make eye contact. Wei stiffened at the sight of the solders—she recognized two as the men who had attacked her. She lowered her head and moved farther back in the kitchen, but there was nowhere to go where she would not be seen.

  For the moment, the soldiers’ attention was on the patrons, who continued to display their subservience. An officer—Pei-Ming thought him to be a captain—reached out and pulled the bowl away from the boy. The boy remained silent as the captain raised the bowl, sniffed, and then threw it to the floor and made a gagging sound. This amused his subordinates, who collectively laughed.

  One of the old men gently pushed his bowl of noodles to the boy, but immediately one of the soldiers snatched it and threw it to the ground. Then the other remaining bowls were also swept off the table to the concrete floor, the ceramic bowls shattering.

  Pei-Ming winced while Wei turned her back to avoid recognition.

  Their household dog and Guan-Yin’s close companion, an old and skinny Shar Pei, strolled over to the table and began lapping up the food that had splattered around the table and chairs. Tears appeared on the boy’s face, but he refused to whimper.

  The captain, one hand resting on the hilt of his katana and the other on the holstered pistol on his hip, spoke in Mandarin. He was well educated and stationed in Manchuria in part because of his language abilities. “What is wrong with you old man? See… the dog eats this. It is not fit for people.” Then he said the same in his native tongue for the amusement of his soldiers, who endorsed his taunting with more laughte
r.

  The Shar Pei finished lapping up the noodles and settled down to gnaw on part of the duck when the captain lashed out with his boot, planting the stiff toe in the dog’s ribs. It yelped in pain, backing away, torn between maintaining a safe distance or daring to approach danger to eat.

  The Japanese officer did not wait. He drew his pistol and calmly shot the dog. The old Shar Pei twitched and then died, bringing more laughter from the soldiers.

  “There,” the captain spoke in Mandarin. “There is food more suitable for you. We have been told you like to eat dog. Feast!” And two of the soldiers each grabbed a leg and threw the carcass on the table. Their mirth lasted only seconds before it was stopped by a scream from Guan-Yin.

  Hearing the gunshot, and seeing her companion dead and tossed on the table, the young girl cried out in anguish and rushed from the kitchen. She threw herself over the dog and sobbed. The soldiers retreated a few steps and fell silent, unsure how they should react in the presence of their superior officer.

  The captain blinked twice as he considered the girl’s reaction. Raising his head, he glanced around, eyes settling on the woman in the kitchen. Then recognition came to him. He had been in this shop before, a couple weeks ago. Reflexively his lips formed a thin smile as he remembered.

  “Hello, pretty one,” he said as he started to move to the kitchen.

  Wei shook her head and backed up until she had nowhere to go. “No, please,” she pleaded, her hands behind her back and her head bowed.

  The captain rounded the short partition and stepped into the kitchen. He continued his deliberate advance, enjoying the power he felt as the woman trembled in fear before him.

  Pei-Ming closed his hand around the cleaver. As he charged, the heavy blade raised, weeks of pent-up humiliation and rage escaped his body in a visceral scream. He swung down but the steel edge clanged against the Japanese katana. With speed and grace from years of practice, the captain slashed the katana across Pei-Ming’s stomach.