Last Flight of the Buffaloes - a World War II Story on the Fall of Java

Chapter 14 - American Bombers over Java... Barely

Sergeant Michael M. Nescu, Texas Army National Guard, was faced with a rude awakening as someone shook him awake. The pain on his stomach and right arm were apparent, but controllable, considering the great amount of morphine and substances he had consumed. When he opened his eyes, it was a familiar face.

"What the fuck, Jack? How can a man get some sleep these days?"

"You can sleep when we're back stateside."

"You're fucken kidding me. We ain't ever going back from this rock, lieutenant..." Said he.

"Well, we are. We're bringing you over."

Mike Nescu laughed dismissively, followed by hard coughs as a result of his injuries. "Well, shit, what kind of Christmas miracle happened just now?"

"Thank the Army Air Corps for that." He turned his head to some orderlies, then ordered in Dutch, "Get this man into the trucks!"

Andir Airfield had turned from a military airbase into a combination of a refugee camp and a field hospital. Dozens of wounded and hundreds of escapees waited eagerly for the arrival of the rumored American bombers. A surprise visit of a British Blenheim needing fuel at 1700 brought cheers to the many dozens. Lieutenant Drebbel, who was now the highest ranking Dutch line officer (doctors and engineers were considered non-line, thus Drebbel had precedence of command), organized who would go and who would stay. The first flight was filled with the heaviest wounded, and Sergeant Mike Nescu was among them.

Jack Desouza walked Mike over to the British bomber, which fit thirty people. "I'll see you soon, Mike."

"I owe you one." Said the weakened Mike.

"You owe me one hell of a round of drinks." Said Jack.

Mike grinned. Jack slapped him on his good shoulder, and he was carried off.

"Hey Yank!" someone shouted. It was the British bomber pilot. "Japanese Air Force are going to get here anytime now. If we're gonna go, we gotta go now!"

"OK! Get your ass outta here!"

"We're leaving!" said the pilot. He waved out to his aircrew, who quickly sprinted into the aircraft and manned their posts. Slowly, the bomber moved forward and taxied, then taking off into the setting sun ahead. It disappeared into the distance, its tail becoming an abstract shape, and that abstract shape became a dot, and the dot became absolutely nothing.

Nightfall was coming soon. At the very least, they would be flying without fearing much Japanese fighters taking them on, but the Imperial Japanese Navy, now scrambling to take on ABDACOM stragglers in the Eastern part of the Indies, was still at large.

"Well, that rids us of the heavily wounded." Said Franky. "We still have a couple dozen here and they might grow hearing that the airlift is still going. Where are your bombers?"

"They'll come, alright. They'll come." Said Jack. Looking at the sky slowly turning dark by the moment, Jack noticed a large weakness. "The Japanese'll come at night. Galveston, how many rifles we got? Machineguns?"

"No machineguns. Some Dutch MP18s, some Springfields, some Enflieds... Haven't counted the ammo either."

"OK. You wanna get promoted, private?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You're a corporal now. I need you to help me."

Jack Desouza went over to the group of waiting soldiers. Some shared what cigarettes they had left, and tried to deal with their fears and anxieties by trading small jokes and stories here and there. His appearance halted it.