SARA, Chapt. 3--DW

Sara
A Darkwing Duck Fanfic

By E. Grimes


Disclaimer: Dr. Sara Bellum and all Darkwing Duck characters are Disney's. All
the others are mine, so please don't use them or this story without my official OK.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:
These next few chapters are obviously going to be 'retro', but hang in there---we'll
get back to the present at Chapter 6 or 7 and catch up with what everyone's doing.
I know some of you weren't around during the Korean War of 1950-53 (I grew
up during the one in Vietnam); so in case you fell asleep during history class---
or never watched M*A*S*H ---I've listed a couple of sources for info down
at the bottom for anyone who might be confused (wow, educational fanfiction!).
By the way, I started this third chapter on Veteran's Day, 2004---on purpose.

The Korean War has often been called "The Forgotten War", and with good reason.
Only recently has it been given a proper memorial up in Washington, D.C. It was a
horrific tragedy for all involved; among the nearly 4.4 million lives lost, many innocent
civilians (especially children) were caught up in the midst of its hell. Far too much was
sacrificed over 51 years ago for too little thanks. At least they admit that it was in fact
a war; I never bought that "police action" myth, and I wish nobody else had, either.

I'd like to dedicate Chapter 3 in memory of my father's buddy: Sgt. Clarence Brown,
who died heroically at Wonju, Korea...and of all who died in that war and the wars
to follow. I also dedicate it to my dad, an Army Air Force vet who's shared many
of his Korean War experiences with me---and whom I hope will write a book one
day. He's been a live-in "technical advisor" of sorts (not to mention, all those years
of watching M*A*S*H reruns over and over are finally going to pay off). ~M.L.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter III
Long Ago and Far Away



Korea...July 1953.

The war in that country had been raging for 3 agonizing years, with seemingly no end in sight. It was
at Panmunjom, near the North Korean border, that a truce had been both discussed and argued for
several months. It was hoped that the last days of the conflict were finally at hand.

On a hot and humid afternoon, two Army Intelligence officers were riding to Panmunjom on a brief
assignment. It was to be a simple task of delivering an attaché of important documents; but in wartime
and in a strange land, nothing was simple---and everything was risky.

The two men were Captains James Gander Hooter and Cyrus Joshua Bellum. They had been friends
from the very start of their service together; to their fellow officers, it seemed a rather odd pairing, since
both were as different in their personalities as in their appearance.

Captain Hooter, a British-born officer who had studied at Oxford, was very short with fuzzy brown
hair. His authoritative and dignified manner well made up for his height, however, and he firmly insisted
on being called by his proper name, James, or simply his last name. Rather than go out and "paint the
town" like his mates, he preferred to read, play parcheesi or listen to music. Highly intelligent with a
no-nonsense way about him, Hooter seemed a natural leader and so was trusted with the more vital
assignments.

An obvious contrast was the tall, thin Captain Bellum---or Cyrus, as he preferred to be called. A
handsome, easygoing fellow who enjoyed a good drink and a good story, he was just as brainy but
also fascinated with mechanics, and could often be found working on some odd invention or another.
He cheerfully played the follower to his buddy's "leader", which made them a most effective team.
Well-meaning but absent-minded at times, he was constantly and testily reminded by Hooter never
to call him "Jimmy". Yet despite both their differences---perhaps even because of them---the two
were faithful friends.

They had now been on the road for some time, and Cyrus, easily bored, was getting quite restless.

"How much longer till we get there, Jim?" he asked.

"Half an hour, perhaps," was Hooter's reply.

"Can't we stop at a bar or something? I'm dying for a cold beer!"

"There are two full canteens of water in the jeep," Hooter said simply, though he was secretly tempted
himself.

"Water?! Pffffft!" Cyrus answered in disgust. "It goes so lousy with pretzels."

"Cyrus, you know very well we've got important work to do here. We need to think clearly right now;
and besides, it wouldn't do to meet the staff with alcohol on your breath."

Cyrus shook his head. "Tch...Jimmy, why don't you stop being such an old fogey and cut loose a
little?"

Hooter slowed the jeep down just long enough to glare at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Bellum---"

"I know, I know: 'Don't call me Jimmy!' " his partner finished with a mischievous grin. "See, that's
another thing...why are you so fussy about your name? I don't care if people call me 'Cyrus'---or
even 'Cy'.

"Well, Cy, I simply prefer to be called 'James'. I'm willing to overlook 'Jim'."

Cyrus rolled his eyes. Hooter was simply hopeless.

"Come on...the boys at Panmunjom don't care if we have a drink or not. All they're worried about are
getting those stupid papers all in one piece!"

"These 'stupid papers', as you call them," Hooter pointed out firmly, "may or may not make some
difference in this confounded war."

He now had his friend's full attention. "I'd heard talk about a possible ceasefire. You don't think...?"

"I won't say what I think," James said gravely. "Only that I'm ready to see the end of this madness."

"I'll drink to that," Cyrus said with a wry smile, "but not with water...James."

Hooter cast him a dubious look. "Maybe you should stick to 'Jim'."

Suddenly there was a loud pop---it sounded too much like a shot, and both men automatically ducked
down. But a sudden lurch of their jeep told them it was only a tire blown out. It was easy to mistake
sounds in a war-torn area...

"Drat it---not here. Not now!" Hooter whispered, careful to keep his voice down. They were
still in the countryside, a few miles from their destination, and a sniper could be anywhere.

"Cyrus," he continued in the same tone, "get that spare out of the trunk, could you? We've
got to repair this thing as quickly as possible..."

"Why me?? You were driving," Cyrus whispered back.

"Well, you're the one who's always wanting to tinker with things! Must we argue about this now??"
hissed his friend with an anxious glance around him.

"Okay, okay," Cyrus replied pleasantly. Keep an eye out, I'll go get it..."

"You keep an eye out, too," Hooter insisted, nervously watching his lanky friend stroll casually over
to the rear of the jeep. "You're too easy a target!"

He stood by with his M-1 rifle at the ready as he watched Bellum change the tire.

"Would you hurry up, Cy?" he whispered tensely. "Half of North Korea will be on our tail by the
time you get through with that blasted thing!"

"I'm almost finished!" Cyrus answered a bit irritably. "I could work a lot better if you'd stop
hovering over me with that rifle. I never liked guns anyway."

"You'd learn to like them if we had to use them," James informed him. "And you should have
grabbed yours, too."

"It's close enough if I need it. I swear, Jim," Cyrus commented, looking up once at Hooter, "you
worry too blessed much. You're going to drive yourself into an early grave---"

"Shhhhhh!" Hooter cut him off. "Did you hear something?"

They fell immediately silent, and glanced around them uneasily. At first there seemed to be no sound
in the surrounding countryside. Then the men thought they heard a slight rustling of leaves; suddenly---

"Get down!!!" cried Hooter, shoving his friend to the ground. At the same time, gunfire exploded from
a thick clump of bushes a few yards away. Several rounds peppered the jeep and punctured the tires.
Bellum's work had clearly been wasted.

"Get behind the jeep---hurry!!" he told Hooter, as the two frantically began to crawl away. Cyrus had
reached the other side of the vehicle when he realized James was no longer following. The sound of
labored breathing and a stifled groan told him why; casting an anxious look over his shoulder, Bellum
saw his friend lying face down on the ground, bleeding and half-conscious.

"Jim??? Oh my God!"

The snipers had stopped briefly---whether reloading or waiting to get another shot, Cyrus wasn't
sure, but he wasn't about to leave his friend laying there. Quickly, he went back over to Hooter and
grabbed him, barely managing to drag him out of the way as the snipers resumed firing. Keeping watch
for further signs of trouble, he checked his buddy's wounds. They didn't appear to be mortal, but they
were still quite serious.

"We gotta get out of here, Jim," he said in a trembling voice. "They'll be coming out for us any minute!"

"The...papers..." grunted Hooter. "The papers...don't leave them, Cy..."

The hell with the papers! thought Cyrus. He wasn't normally one to swear, but for now he was more
concerned with Hooter's safety as well as his own. Yet realizing the sensitive information those papers
might contain---and which must not fall into enemy hands---Bellum knew what he would have to risk.

Inching carefully up the side of the jeep, he worked his way to the attaché tucked under one of the
seats. Snatching both it and his rifle, he jumped back down just as the bullets flew again.

"Come on," he told James. "There's some woods not far from here. I'll get you away from those devils!"

Working as quickly as possible, Cyrus wrapped his jacket around Hooter to try to slow the bleeding in
his side. Then he slung his rifle over his shoulder, and with one arm around his friend and a firm grip on the
case, he dragged them both as fast and as far from the jeep as he could. When he hoped he was a safe
enough distance, he slung Hooter over his shoulder and ran---just as a hail of fresh gunfire broke out.

Bellum stumbled as he felt a hard, sharp blow to his head and something warm running down his face;
with greater desperation now, he struggled on with his double burden until he reached the shelter of
the forest.

Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, the soldier looked around hastily for a hiding place. He found
it in a small thicket up the way, well concealed by thick undergrowth. As he started to carry James inside,
Cyrus noticed with dismay that they had trailed spots of blood behind them---a certain calling card for
their assailants.

Tucking his wounded partner under the brush, he tied a handkerchief around his bleeding head and
crept out to kick dirt over the blood spots, hoping it would confuse their pursuers. He barely made it
back to his friend before distant voices told him the snipers were on their way. Bellum pulled off his
rifle and laid it close by---though he wasn't sure what good it might do now.

As they approached the forest, he could hear them talking among themselves in Korean. Cyrus wasn't
as fluent in the language as Hooter, but he understood "kill", "Yank" and "die" all too clearly.

He huddled close to James, trying to stop his friend's own bleeding, and praying that they would not be
discovered. Then he suddenly remembered: the papers. The papers going to Panmunjom would surely
be lost if he and Jim were found and killed; worse, if the two of them were captured, they would likely
be tortured for information. Cyrus had even heard of something called "brainwashing"...

Lord, don't let them find us...get us help somehow, he prayed in anguish as he took the papers out of
the case and prepared to burn them with his cigarette lighter should they be discovered. Just then Hooter
gave a painful moan, but Cyrus put his hand to his friend's beak before it could get any louder.

Not now, Jimmy---please!! he begged silently. His heart pounded wildly as he heard the stirring of leaves, and the crunch of tramping feet beginning to break through the forest...any moment, it might be too late.
Shaking, Bellum picked up his M-1 and held it awkwardly...

Maybe I'll get one of you guys before you get me, he supposed, wondering if he would still have time to destroy the papers. Or should he risk everything and destroy them first?? His head ached and his mind was whirling; he could hear the ominous noises coming closer, and it was all Cyrus could do to keep from
screaming out loud with terror.

Suddenly, there were other noises, somewhat familiar...of jeep engines and heavy footsteps, and the
distant hum of helicopter blades. At the sound, the tramping and foreign voices quickly stopped.

Just as quickly afterwards, there came sounds of running---followed by massive gunfire, harsh cries
and the thud of falling bodies. With all that too near his earshot, Bellum found the impulse to scream
getting much harder to fight back.

Then for some moments, there was silence...and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

What would happen now? Was it safe to leave? Cyrus gave a worried glance at Hooter, who seemed
to be getting weaker. Even with the snipers gone, there was no way to get back on the road and find
help...not before Jim bled to death.

Suddenly, the heavy footfalls were heard again. Had the snipers returned? Or were there others---
perhaps even the Chinese Army itself? Then Cyrus heard more voices; but now these voices spoke
English.

"Sergeant? There's some blood over here. Maybe one of 'em ran into the woods and hid..."

American soldiers! Cyrus' heart leapt as he threw down his rifle and rushed out of the thicket---then
immediately realized his mistake as a group of GIs, alerted by the rustling, whirled around with their
weapons poised.

"Don't shoot!!" he yelped, scrambling back into the brush and raising his hands high. "Hold your fire---
we're Americans!"

"Identify yo'self, boy!" ordered a husky sergeant with a thick Southern accent. "Name, rank an' serial
number!"

"Captain Cyrus J. Bellum, United States Army...uh...Serial No. 1357---oh, never mind, will you?" Cyrus
blurted. "Captain James Hooter's here with me. We were shot by those guys. Jimmy's hurt, bad!"

"Cap'n Bellum?? Yessir! Must be you fellers' jeep we found all shot up back there. Don't you fret none,
Cap'n---we'll get y'all outta here!"

This time, Cyrus had to hold himself back from crying with relief and joy as he and James were carried
out. Even the burly dog-faced sergeant was a sight for sore eyes.

"Sergeant Abner Dogwood, at your service, suh!" he said with a grin and a jaunty salute. "I'm right sorry
we startled you like that, Cap'n Bellum---we thought you were one o' them snipers. Looks like we got
'em all, though. We'll get you and Cap'n Hooter on the chopper and get ya both patched up---then on
to Tokyo Gen'ral Hospital."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Cyrus replied, too exhausted to say much else. But his thoughts were now with
his buddy, and he wondered if help had arrived in time after all...

________________________________________________


Miraculously, Hooter survived the trip to Tokyo. Although Cyrus' injuries were less severe, he had insisted
on making the trip with his friend. His rank and status gave him reasonable say in that matter; but when he
also demanded to stay right at James' side until he recovered, the staff was not so inclined to indulge him.

"You've survived quite an ordeal of your own, sir," an Army nurse told him. "You'll do Captain Hooter
no favors by risking your health any further."

"I'll be all right," Cyrus replied stubbornly. "After all Jimmy and I went through, you're crazy if you think
I'm going to leave him!"

The nurse, a second lieutenant, decided to put her profession ahead of protocol. "With all due respect,
Captain," she said firmly, "you're worn out and recovering from a head wound. You lost some blood
yourself; either get some rest or I'll have you sedated!"

Cyrus was highly indignant. "Now listen, Lieutenant..." He normally wouldn't have cared to pull rank,
but nothing seemed normal at this point. However, a Major Peregrine happened by and saved him the
trouble.

"It's all right, Lieutenant; I'll handle it from here. Captain Bellum, I'm ordering you to take some time
off. There's a hotel near the hospital, and I'll see you get a room. It's either that or be confined to a
bed here," Peregrine declared as Cyrus was about to protest.

The tall soldier gave a heavy sigh. "All right...I'll go to the hotel. But please, sir---could someone let
me know how Jim's doing?"

"Certainly. We're giving him the best of care. And you boys can put yourselves down for a Purple
Heart---maybe more!" the major replied, smiling.

Bellum could have cared less if it were the Nobel Prize; but he reluctantly let another nurse wheel
him out to a waiting car, which drove him to the Usui Inn nearby.

Shortly after he checked in, he tried to relax. But the day's terrifying incidents kept running through his
brain, and tired though he was, Cyrus could find no rest. What didn't help was the guilt gnawing at him,
for he could not shake off the feeling that somehow he was responsible for it all.

If only I'd hurried up with changing that stupid tire...if I hadn't talked so loud and attracted so much
attention...if I'd been a little shorter, they might not have seen me...

...and we could've gotten away from those snipers in time. Jim would be okay now. What if he dies??
It's all my fault...I got him killed!

Logic might have told Cyrus that none of those beliefs held any truth; but logic was no match for the "if
only" demons haunting the exhausted soldier. He remembered seeing a cocktail lounge on the premises,
and decided a drink---or two---might be just the thing to calm his nerves.

The semi-darkened lounge had only a few scattered customers when Cyrus crept in. With his eyes mainly
for an empty spot, he paid little mind to the bartender or to the kimono-clad waitress cleaning a nearby
table. He was dimly aware of surrounding glances turned in his direction as he walked in; though foreign
servicemen were hardly strangers to the Tokyo bar. Bellum usually hated being stared at, but for the time
being he was too tired to care.

He seated himself at a corner table, where he laid his head in his arms and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure
whether he had dozed off; but the sound of an Asian voice nearby startled him---the frightening memories
still fresh on his mind.

"Mariko? Customer!"

It was the bartender, calling to the waitress. Cyrus gave a short, uneasy laugh at his own nervousness and
rubbed his head. The bullet had only grazed his skull, but had left a painful wound nonetheless. It was still
quite sore and would be for awhile.

He stiffened as he heard yet another Oriental accent...however, it was the soft voice of a woman.

"So-jah??"

It was Mariko, the waitress. Bellum relaxed a little, but did not look up at her at first.

"Soldier?" she repeated. "You want me to bring you drink?"

"Yes, please. I'd like a whiskey...a double," he replied, even though the throbbing in his head suggested
it wouldn't be a good idea. Surprisingly, Mariko stood gazing at him instead of fetching the drink.

"You okay? Your head hurt you?"

"Well...kinda, but I'll be okay. Uh...the drink, Miss?"

But the waitress continued to stare at him. "No," she said at last, in a low voice. "A drink will be not
good for you."

His tired eyes still not really seeing her, Cyrus frowned a bit. It seemed everyone was telling him what
was good or bad for him tonight.

"I bring tea...hot food?" suggested Mariko. "It will be better for you."

"Tea's okay, I guess. But I'm not sure I'm hungry," he said hesitantly, although he had in fact not eaten
for some hours.

Just then, he felt a soft and fragrant hand gently touch his bandaged wound.

"You are tired...you are hurt. You eat, and drink tea. It will make you strong again."

Something in the woman's touch, in her voice, made Bellum look up at her. And for a few seconds
he forgot everything around him...

A pair of bright, beautiful eyes and a sweet smile greeted him from a small and ivory-feathered face
haloed with raven hair...the closest thing, Cyrus thought, to seeing an actual angel.

Suddenly, he felt like he had an appetite after all. "Ah...whatever you think is best, Miss..." he
stammered, his heart beating a little faster as the waitress smiled even more.

"I am Mariko Suzume." she replied. "You may call me Mariko, Captain...?"

Cyrus cleared his throat. "Bellum. Captain Cyrus Bellum...but you can call me Cyrus, if you
want...Mariko."

Mariko nodded. "It is an honor to meet you, Cyrus. I will get your tea and food now."

She returned some minutes later with a pot of green tea, some hot rice and a bowl of clear soup.
After Cyrus finished them, he indeed felt much better; but he could not stop worrying about Jim---
or blaming himself for the day's awful mess. Mariko chose this time to take a break and sat talking
with the weary soldier.

"You speak rather good English, Mariko," Cyrus noted, managing a weak half-smile.

Mariko laughed good-naturedly, explaining that she had been born in America. "My mother and I
came back here to Japan, a frew years ago."

But she grew serious as she gazed steadily at Bellum's tired and worried countenance.

"I see when you come here, Cyrus...that there is in your face a great sadness. May I ask, why?"

Her question startled Cyrus, who hadn't planned to talk about his troubles to anyone at first. But
somehow Mariko's pretty face and gentle voice encouraged him to open his heart just a little. As
he began to relate the day's traumatic events, he found Mariko surprisingly easy to talk to---even
though he had never met her before now. Quite before he knew it, Cyrus was pouring out his soul,
even admitting the fear and guilt that continued to trouble him.

"They made me leave Jim and come here," he added sadly. "I wanted to stay and keep an eye on
him. I just feel this whole thing is my fault..."

"But it is not your fault, Cyrus!" the waitress insisted. "In war, these things happen. The men who hurt
you and Jim were waiting where you could not see them. And did you not save Jim?"

"He saved my neck first---and got shot doing it," Cyrus said bitterly as he stared down at the table.

"But you helped him. You were hurt taking him away; it is not right to blame yourself for what
those evil men have done. You are a good and brave man, Cyrus..."

At this last remark, Bellum looked up at her in surprise, and his heart almost skipped a beat as Mariko
lightly touched his hand.

"They are wise to make you go to rest," she continued. "You must take care of yourself, so you may
take better care of Jim. You are a good friend, Cyrus...you did not leave Jim to die out there. You
would have given your life to save him...

"He is alive, because of what you have done. Be at peace for your friend now, and pray that all will
be right."

Her gentle touch and her words seemed as strengthening to Cyrus as the food and tea. He finally did
smile as he thanked Mariko for her kindness; and it was with a lighter heart that the officer returned
to his room and slept at last.

He was summoned back to the hospital early next morning; but to his relief the news was good. Jim
had rallied through the night, though he was still fairly unconscious for the time being. This time, Bellum
was allowed to sit with him for awhile.

"Jim? Can you hear me?" he asked softly. "They finally let me see you. I'm sorry about what happened
out there..."

Hooter's silence was uncomfortable; but his spirits lifted by what Mariko had said the night before,
Cyrus thought of something. Leaning close to his buddy's ear, he said with a sly smile:

"Come on; wake up---Jimmy."

He was never more glad to see Hooter's frown. His eyes still shut, the short officer grumbled:

"Don't...call...me... 'Jimmy'..."

_______________________________________


Once 'Jimmy' began recovering in earnest, he asked Cyrus about what had occurred the past few
days; he had drifted in and out of consciousness while being carried to safety, and so the recent
incident had been much of a blur. He was astonished to hear of the incredible risk his friend had
taken, as well as their timely (if not miraculous) rescue.

"I certainly never thought you a coward," he told Bellum meekly, "but you showed even more pluck
than I'd have expected. I'm proud of what you did out there."

Cyrus blushed a little. "I wasn't trying to be a hero."

"Well, you were one anyway," James said firmly. "I'll never forget this, Cyrus...I'll be your friend
until the day I die."

"Same here," Cyrus answered warmly, as he and Hooter shook hands. "And even after that, Jim..."


__________________________________________________


On July 27th 1953, a truce was signed at Panmunjom; and by 10 p.m. the guns on all fronts fell silent.
For all intents and purposes, the war in Korea was over.

Capt. Hooter and Capt. Bellum opted to stay in Japan for awhile, even though Hooter at least could
have been shipped home because of his wounds. Perhaps no one was happier than Cyrus to remain
in Tokyo, since he and Mariko Suzume had begun spending more time together. James met her soon
after leaving the hospital, and was touched both by her kindness and the growing devotion between
Cyrus and herself.

"A most pretty and pleasant creature indeed," he told Bellum later, adding mischievously: "So this is
why you don't want to leave Japan, eh old boy?"

Cyrus chuckled, quite unable to argue the point. However, some months later both officers were
indeed ordered stateside. This left Cyrus to make yet another important decision in his life...

One moonlit evening, a few days before he and James were to ship out, Cyrus took Mariko out on
the town. After a Kabuki play and dinner at a fine restaurant, the young couple strolled through a
public garden and talked about many things...but mainly about America.

It had only been a few years since Mariko had left the States. Her father had also been a soldier during
World War II, but had fought for the U.S. Army and died on Omaha Beach. After the war, Mariko had
returned to Japan with her mother, who was now deceased as well. The bereaved young woman had
been left to find work where she could...and hopefully, a husband.

After the night Captain Bellum first visited the lounge at Usui Inn, Mariko's interest and sympathy
toward him soon became much more than that. In only the short time she came to know Cyrus, his
pleasing nature and gentle manner quickly captured the young lady's heart. In turn, she had captured
his. But now, it seemed to Mariko that she was going to lose her brave and handsome soldier.

And so, tonight---which she was sure might be her last night with Cyrus---Mariko tried to enjoy
their time together; but she couldn't hold back the heartache that weighed on her. Cyrus could see
it in her eyes as the two finally sat down under a cherry tree to rest.

"Don't be sad, darling," he said gently, slipping his arm around her delicate shoulders.

"But you are leaving, Cyrus," she answered, with tears in her eyes. "I do not know if we will see
each other again."

"We will, honey...I promise."

She tried not to look as dubious as she felt; but Mariko knew of other women in her country who
had heard that promise from soldiers before---and had lived to regret believing it. But Cyrus was
well aware of the "love 'em, fool 'em and leave 'em" types among his fellows, so he realized
his sweetheart's concern and quickly proved his intentions honorable.

"Mariko, I'd like to ask you something. Do you miss the States?"

She nodded wistfully. "Yes...even though I love Japan. I hope one day to return, and to see
my Cyrus again..."

Cyrus tenderly lifted her face to meet his, and stroked her soft dark hair. "What if...what if you didn't
have to wait, Mariko---to go back there?"

She looked up at him, puzzled but somehow hopeful, and watched curiously as Bellum fumbled into his
Army dress jacket and brought forth a small velvet box. As he opened it, Mariko gasped...

...for inside lay a small diamond ring.

Cyrus drew her close and gazed lovingly into her dark eyes.

"I love you, Mariko...will you come home with me? Will you marry me??"

This time, Mariko's tears were happy as she threw her arms around the young man's neck.

"Ah, Cyrus...yes...yes!!!"

Cyrus whooped, and hugged her deliriously. Then jumping up with Mariko's arms still around him,
he swung around with her until they were both dizzy and fell to the ground, giggling wildly like happy
children and kissing each other over and over.

"Oh, Mariko, Mariko!" Cyrus exclaimed, as he picked her up at last and laughed boyishly up at the
stars. "This is the happiest night of my whole life!"

Mariko, both laughing and crying for joy, laid her head against Bellum's heart.

"It is mine, too..." she whispered, as she nuzzled his shoulder.

No more needed to be said as the American soldier and the Japanese maiden embraced and
kissed beneath the Eastern moon...

______________________________

A new life was about to begin for Cyrus and Mariko; before long, they would bring another
new life into the world.



End Chapter III


_______________________________________________________


Hope this wasn't too cheesy for you, my faithful readers. I don't know how soon I'll have Chapter
4 ready, since I've got some other stories and stuff to work on; but you'll finally get to meet 'Baby'
Sarah Bellum later on. In the meantime, if you want to learn more about the Korean War, check
these out:

THE FORGOTTEN WAR---America in Korea 1950-1953 by Clay Blair (TIMES Books)

Websites:

The Korean War Project, www.koreanwar.org
The Korean War: The Forgotten War Between World War II and Vietnam, www.koreanwar.com