“We’ve had some accounts back home from those who escape,” she told him. “But just how were you freed?”
“Those Japs just cleared out and left us to our fate when the firing got too warm. Some of our own men were killed by the American firing. That’s how I got the spatter of shrapnel in my side.”
“It must have been marvelous to see your own countrymen coming ashore on that island,” she said.
“You’re tellin’ me!” he exclaimed. “Santa Claus at Christmas when I was a kid, was never more welcome than those khaki uniforms coming in through the jungle.”
“Had you been on the same island all the time?”
He nodded as he finished his soup and pushed the bowl to one side of the tray. “I haven’t a very clear idea of the location,” he admitted. “I never paid much attention to the directions. My job was to spill those bombs at the right place. I didn’t worry about the rest.”
He cleared a place on the tray and began to draw an imaginary map with his finger. “See, it was something like this. Here’s Australia, and over here’s New Caledonia where we took off, and here’re the islands we headed for.”
“Wait a minute,” said Nancy. “I’ll get a map, then you can sketch me a more detailed plan of the area you operated in.”
“Sure,” agreed Bruce. Then a shadow crossed his face. “But what’s the use? We can’t go out there and look for Tommy.”
“Who knows?” she asked, stubbornly clinging to her hopes. “I may sometime get to the islands. I want to hear every detail you can recall about the location.”