Free Fiends of the Rising Sun by David Bishop

to attack their common enemy. If such a thing was possible, the first brawl had been almost benign, the chance to let off some steam. This fight was serious. The MPs waded into battle, using their truncheons to bludgeon a way through those nearest to them. In less than a minute, the floor was awash with blood and teeth, as skulls were cracked and bones broken.
    Walton saw his friend Maeda knocked senseless by a military policeman with sergeant's stripes. But the MP kept beating Maeda even after the marine was out cold.
    "Hey, you can't do that!" Walton shouted.
    The sergeant grinned at the young marine. "You want some too?"
    Richards stepped between them, putting one hand on Walton's chest to hold the youth back. "This guy's innocent, sergeant. I've been in here since before the brawl started and he hasn't thrown a single punch, okay?"
    "If you were in here before the fighting started, why didn't you stop it?"
    The pilot laughed. "Are you serious?"
    The MP advanced on Richards, slapping his bloody truncheon in the palm of one hand. "You bet I'm serious, flyboy. It was your duty to stop this."
    "Yeah, right!" Richards looked over his shoulder at Marquez and Taylor. "Can you believe this goon? He actually believes-" The rest of his words were cut off by the MP's truncheon smacking across his face. By the time Richards hit the floor, Walton and Marquez were laying into the sergeant, raining blows down on him. The last thing the young marine could recall was hearing a high-pitched whistle behind him. When he turned to see the source of it, a fist flew into his face. After that there was only pain and darkness.
     
    Father Kelly was lost. Since leaving the cathedral he'd been wandering around downtown Honolulu, failing to find a way back to the docks. It was embarrassing, getting lost in a city so small compared with his native Chicago. In truth, he wasn't trying that hard, as his mind was still replaying the conversation with Bishop Sweeney. The priest was so deep in thought he came close to being run down by a convoy of jeeps transporting MPs. Father Kelly realised his jeopardy at the last moment and threw himself out of harm's way as the vehicles sped past. The men inside them looked grim faced and ready for war, making the priest grateful he was not their target.
    A thought occurred to him, sending a shudder up his spine. Private Martinez was out on the town with Wierzbowski and that disreputable slob Buntz. Those two could start a fight in an empty field, and Father Kelly had little doubt that Martinez's feelings of loyalty to the regiment would drag the young soldier into the melee. He strode off in the direction the jeeps had taken, though they were long gone by now, swallowed by the press of traffic and pedestrians. Fortunately, the MPs did not go much further before abandoning their vehicles and racing into a bar and grill near the beach.
    The priest found the jeeps a few minutes later, outside a ramshackle building bearing the name TOKYO JOE'S. He didn't bother going inside to see what was happening, it was all too evident from the sound of fists on flesh and the cries of men being hurt. Father Kelly made the sign of the cross and offered a silent prayer heavenwards that Martinez had the good sense not to get involved with senseless brawling. Moments later Martinez appeared in front of him, having been thrown out of a grease smeared window, on to the street. The private scrambled to his feet, brushed himself down and made as if to go back inside.
    "Oh no you don't!" the priest insisted, grabbing the young soldier's arm.
    "Father? What are you doing here?"
    "I could ask you the same question, my son."
    "Buntz and Wierzbowski are still in there. They need my help!"
    "I see, and how many MPs did you see enter that bar?"
    Martinez shrugged. "I don't know, ten, maybe a dozen?"
    "I counted at least twenty, if not more."
    "Then Buntz and Wierzbowski definitely need my help."
    "They'll be fine without you. One man more or less