Search for the Buried Bomber

CHAPTER 28





The Distant Mountain in the Water



My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the huge black cross the Shinzan's wingspan formed underwater. As the flashlight beam illuminated the rust spots covering its body, it resembled some legendary animal of tremendous size, raising its head above water to breathe. It was the most magnificent thing I had ever seen. For anyone other than members of the mysterious "Plan 53" unit, coming across a plane this colossal in mainland China would have been impossible in those days. Back then, when a plane flew across the sky, children would all crane their necks to catch sight of it. Now, even if a fleet of fighter jets streaks overhead in formation, no one pays them any attention.

Stacked all around the bomber were the same corpse-filled gunnysacks we'd seen earlier, but here their numbers were even more astonishing. They formed a dense mass underwater and extended in every direction farther than the eye could see. They were piled one atop the other, some remaining in neat condition, others already caved in from decay, their appearance similar to the large seaside rocks that buffer the ocean waves. It was between these bags that the plane was wedged. We gingerly tiptoed onto the gunnysacks. Though they would sink down when trod upon, there was always some spot that would support our weight. Holding each other up, we began to make our way across. "What the hell were the Japanese doing here?" said the deputy squad leader.

I could say nothing in reply. Neither side of the river was visible. The flashlight illuminated only a black expanse. Soon I began to question whether this wasn't in fact the middle of some giant subterranean lake. We made our way across the piles of unevenly stacked corpse bags. At last we reached the twisted length of one of the wings, rising above the surface. It was severely corroded, and rusty water covered our hands as we scaled its side. Thank goodness the top was dry. As we stepped upon it, the wing sank slightly under our weight. If Wang Sichuan were here, he probably would have snapped it in half, I thought to myself. I couldn't help but take a look around, searching for him. There was no sign of the big guy, only whitecap rapids. I didn't even know if he was alive or dead.

We were exhausted, truly on the point of collapse, my only comparable experience being the seven-day deathwatch I kept after my father passed. After reaching the top of the wing, darkness descended upon me, and I nearly crumpled to the ground. But resting was something we absolutely could not do. To rest was to die. We removed our clothing, both of us turning away at the sight of the leeches. Our blood visibly pulsed inside them, some so filled they had turned amber. In a moment I began to vomit.

For leeches a cigarette is best, but all that remained of mine was a thick paste in my pocket. I'd have to scald them off with my lighter. At the time, most people had only matches, but when used in the field it was too easy for them to become damp or start a forest fire. Those of us who could, made sure to buy a lighter. Old-fashioned lighters burned kerosene and were unusable while the wicks were damp. We had to let them dry for a long time before they would finally light. Then, one by one, we roasted the leeches off of us. Once they began to burn, we flicked them back into the water, blood spilling from our open cuts. With great difficulty we disposed of them all, bloodying ourselves in the process until we were truly frightening to look at. Only when we'd thoroughly checked each other, and made sure they were truly gone, did we finally relax. After wringing my clothes dry, I picked up the deputy squad leader's flashlight and went to inspect the sunken bomber.

The flashlight had already dimmed considerably, but even still, from atop the wing I had a much clearer view of the plane's lower half. The Shinzan must have hit the water unevenly, tail end first. The nose still rose above the surface. The tail was some distance off, too far away for me to see clearly. I stood atop the broken wing between its two giant engines. I could make out the twisted shapes of the three-bladed propellers below, sunk halfway into the river and already too rusted to spin. The front of the plane was divided into upper and lower sections. The bottom section, just above the nose, was the machine-gun cabin. Its glass-and-steel exterior was smashed to pieces, leaving only the frame, half of which was underwater. Above this was the cockpit, its windows at least partially intact. A rotating gun turret sat atop the plane in the middle of its body, seemingly undamaged. The parts of the plane that had sunk underwater were already so rusted none of their original green coating could be seen. Holes had opened in the walls of the engine room. It had been sitting here for more than twenty years, getting water-washed the whole time. Above the surface it still looked all right. I could see a vague "07" written along the nose in huge characters, though the rest of the marks were unclear. I had seen this plane on a filmstrip just three days ago, the image smaller than a fingernail. Standing upon it now, deep beneath the earth, I couldn't believe it. There really was a giant plane! That's what I said to myself at the time. My God, I thought, there really is a bomber down here!

But we were told it had been disassembled before being moved into the cave. Why did it appear to have crashed down right here? Had the Japanese tried to fly it over the underground river and failed in the attempt? I craned my neck and shined my flashlight upward, trying to see how high the cave went. The beam failed to illuminate the ceiling, but it was obvious there wasn't nearly enough room for a plane to take off. Why on earth would the Japanese have wanted to fly a plane down here?