An account of the Battle of Stockton, from the perspective of various members of the Women's Home Auxiliary Volunteer Unit of the Imperial Japanese Army.
May 15, 2014
Stockton, CA, North American Federation
(山手理沙 -- Risa Yamanote)
So much death.
So much blood.
So many mangled bodies.
Life wasn't supposed to end up this way.
Bullets everywhere. Explosions that shredded my ears, that shredded my friends and family, and shredded my home, too.
The Rebs had to pay for what they'd done.
Me and the other girls in the unit could see the Stars and Bars fluttering over Stockton City Hall. The Rebs had dug in deep, and our commander told us to just go in and take as many of the enemy as we could with us.
But I wanted to live. I couldn't let them destroy me.
I scrambled for my rocket launcher, for I couldn't throw grenades very well. Once I loaded up, I got behind the sandbags and fired.
The enemy position became a mess of red and pink. Satisfied, I laid down the launcher and picked up my rifle; it was time to move.
Stepping on skulls and brains and God knows what else, me and the other girls advanced, always ready to close with the enemy. More than once, our bullets hit their mark, and Rebs dropped all around us.
But I stayed tense. I knew the worst was yet to come.
Out of nowhere, a pickup truck full of Ku Klux Klan partisans rammed through the back of us; too many of my comrades became nothing more than roadkill. I laid into them with my rifle, running back to put some distance between them and me. I took a grenade from my belt and threw it right at them, then ran for it. When it blew up, the Klansmen were no more.
But they succeeded at one thing: they split us up.
Alone, deep in enemy territory, I watched every window, every alleyway, every destroyed car. Sound and fury surrounded me, as did the dying screams of men and women both, but there was nothing where I was, only rubble. I took advantage of this and moved to where I thought the others in my unit would be, but an artillery barrage out of nowhere forced me to change direction.
And then, I heard noises in the alley across from me. Rifle at the ready, I was about to shoot down anyone who threatened me.
But when I saw who it was, I hesitated. They were just children. I was about to gun down children!
"Hey, I mean you no harm. Follow me; I'l try to get you to the nearest refugee camp," I said. Our mission was already a failure, so I had to leave having accomplished something. The children gathered behind me, their protector, and we made our way through the broken streets and collapsed shops, looking for the safest path we could. It was like everything conspired to make my task easy; the battle had moved well east of me, not so many artillery rounds landed around here, and we hadn't stepped on an IED yet. Nonetheless, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before something went wrong.
But nervous as I was, nothing happened. I found myself among fellow Japanese troops, as well as some of our still-loyal NAF people. So that was why I didn't encounter the enemy in this part of town -- our boys already took it.
I lowered my weapon and ran up to whoever looked like he was in charge.
"Sarge! Sarge! I found these children by an alleyway. We need to get them to a refugee camp-"
I jumped when he whipped out his pistol and shot one of the children right in the face.
"You stupid girl!" he shouted. I looked behind me...and the children all had guns aimed right at us.
Time seemed to slow down.
"You damn Nips surrender right now!" one of the older boys said. I didn't dare turn away, but I wasn't sure the other troops would help; they had the commanding officer hostage, and I got caught up in it, too.
"Drop your weapons or we'll shoot," another kid said.
I had to decide. If I raised my weapon, I had to open fire, or I would die. But they were just kids, even now, I couldn't find it in my heart to just blow them away.
But I couldn't let my comrades down. I couldn't let my country down. I couldn't let my Emperor down.
As fast as I could, I raised my weapon and unleashed a river of lead. The children exploded into messes of blood and guts before they even realized what was happening, but I wasn't done -- oh no. I reloaded, walked over to their mangled, groaning bodies, and blew their brains out. Each and every one of them.
"Excellent work," I heard the officer say, but I just stared at what I had done, not out of shame, but out of duty. If I wanted my life back, I had to fight for it by any means necessary.
Even if it meant shooting children.
Top photo is ID 970315-N-0000S-008, taken by Photographer's Mate 2nd Class Brett Siegel, US Navy.
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